Page 66 of Inked Desires

“Goddamnit! Tell me he’s under protection!” I shout, making Kiran jump beside me.

“No. No one’s supposed to know it’s Andrew. We embedded a guy as a nurse.”

“What hospital?” I repeat, relentless.

“New London Hospital. But it’s too late, Ares. Jace vanished again, and the doctors are fighting to save his life,” he says, then ends the call.

Too late.

No.

As long as they’re fighting, it’s not too late.

“We need to get to New London. Now,” I order.

“That’s in Wisconsin,” Connor argues from the backseat.“It’ll take thirteen hours to get there, Ares. Let us at least stop at a hotel for a few hours of sleep before we hit the road.”

“My man is bleeding out in a fucking hospital,” I growl.“Drop me off at the airport. You can go book yourselves a spa weekend for all I care. I’m catching a flight to Wisconsin.”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Kiran says, trying to ease the tension.“We’ll charter a plane. Try to get back as fast as we can. Then everyone can do whatever the hell they want.”

I knew it was a fucking mistake to rely on this team. This whole trip was pointless. I should’ve left days ago. Alone.

Maybe then I could’ve put a bullet right between that bastard’s eyes myself.

CHAPTER 16

ARÈS

There he is. Lying still. Pale. Eyes closed. Countless needles and wires are attached to his body, while a ring of bluish bruises wraps around his neck like a macabre necklace. He looks so weak. So fragile.

I want to cry. Not because he’s lying there. Not because of the visible marks on his body. But because he’s alive. He’s fucking alive.

I take a hesitant step forward, afraid that touching him might somehow worsen his pain. Is he hurting? I wish he would open his eyes. I want to hear his voice—just once. I need to know this isn’t some illusion. Maybe I’m still on the plane, dreaming he made it out. And if I am, I don’t ever want to wake up.

A hand lands on my shoulder, pulling me back into reality. The fingers tighten slightly, grounding me. I turn my head.

Agent Robert Davis stands behind me, a flicker of something like compassion in his gaze. He moves closer, eyes resting on the man sleeping in the hospital bed.

“The embedded nurse was a traitor,” Davis says.“He waited for the right moment to reveal himself and tip off Benton. While we were arresting his men, he slipped away and made it into the room.”

I stare at him, stunned. I wasn’t expecting that kind of honesty. Usually, getting answers takes forever—especially for someone like me, a civilian who technically isn’t even supposed to be in this room.

“He doesn’t remember us,” Davis continues.“The doctors believe it’s dissociative amnesia. He thinks it’s still 2015.”

Amnesia. Fuck. Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe he won’t remember the abuse, the pain, everything he’s endured.

“Why are you telling me all this?” I ask, wary.

The agent takes a deep breath before answering.

“Because I want you to leave—and let him go. If he doesn’t remember anything, it’ll be easier for him to disappear. We don’t know where Jace is, and he’ll be safer with no familiar faces around.”

I’m supposed to walk away from him. Leave him here. Is that really the right thing to do?

It would take just a few steps to reach his hand. He needs someone. Andrew needs someone by his side.

But I’m a walking landmine. Benton knows he lived with me. He knows where my shop is. He’ll never be safe near me. I’d have to stay awake every night, gun in hand, ready to defend him. How many nights could I hold out before my guard slipped? Not enough. Benton doesn’t leave loose ends.