Page 9 of Her Darkest Possession

Could it be? I don't dare hope, but what other explanation makes sense?

Indigo must have been on that train. More importantly, she must've found a way to escape from Grisha!

Hope surges through me. It's a dangerous, fragile thing. But it's all I have as I wrench the steering wheel and swerve for the exit heading into the Bronx.

3

INDIGO

The antiseptic smellhits me first. Sharp. Clinical. More familiar than I'd like.

My eyelids feel impossibly heavy as I struggle to open them, like they're weighted down with sand. A fluorescent light flickers overhead, making me wince. Hospital. I'm in a hospital.

Panic surges through me as memories come rushing back. Grisha's hands on my thigh. The gunshots on the train. Blood pooling at my feet in the barbershop.

My eyes fly open.

"Easy there," comes a familiar voice. "Don't try to move too much."

As my vision clears, Marcus's worried face comes into focus. Deep lines crease his forehead as he leans forward in the plastic chair beside my bed. His eyes are bloodshot, like he hasn't slept.

"Where," I croak, my throat raw. "Where am I?"

Marcus's expression softens slightly. "St. Barnabas." He pauses, running a hand over his close-cropped hair. "Wasn't a whole lot of other places to take you. You were bleeding so much when I brought you in."

Panic tears through me at Marcus mentioning my blood loss.My baby... is my baby okay?The question burns on my tongue, desperate to escape.

But I swallow it back.

The fewer people who know about the baby, the better. I've already put too many people in danger. I've hurt enough people already. Svetlana… those passengers on the train.

All that blood on my hands because I thought I could outrun my past, because I thought I could have something I never deserved.

I glance around the hospital room, suddenly aware of how exposed I am. Anyone could walk through that door. A nurse. A doctor. Or someone working for Lola.

"I need to leave," I say, trying to push myself up. The room spins slightly, and Marcus gently pushes me back down.

"Not like that, you ain't," he says firmly. "Wherever you think you need to go, that can wait until you're stable."

Except that's not true, is it?

Marcus doesn't understand. The trouble I'm in doesn't wait. It hunts. It follows. And it will find me here, in this hospital bed, where I'm weak and vulnerable and useless.

And it will take everything from me. Again.

"How long have I been here?" I ask instead, trying to push myself up.

"Almost twelve hours." Marcus gently places a hand on my shoulder. "You passed out a couple of seconds after you came in. Scared the crap out of everyone."

I notice the hospital bracelet around my wrist. It reads "Jane Doe."

"I didn't tell them your name," Marcus explains, following my gaze. "Figured there might be a reason you showed up looking like you'd been through hell with a gun in your hand."

I close my eyes briefly, grateful for his discretion. "Thank you."

"Where'd you go, Indie?" His voice is gentle but firm. "You disappeared on me. Didn't even leave a note. Just a floor full of broken glass."

I look down at my hands, shame washing over me. Marcus has always been good to me, better than I deserve.