Page 67 of Judas (The Lito Duet #2)

Chapter thirty-three

Babel

Meanwhile

H ave you ever heard the expression ‘ that will put the fear of God in you ’? That has nothing on what is going through my head right now—fear? Yeah, tons of it.

The second I got Sadie to the SUV and folded her into the seat, I drug out the first aid kit that most rental agencies keep in the center console.

I didn't think I would have to do field dressing on a damn teenage girl but there I was. I wound wads of gauze and coban-wrapped around her thin wrists and forearms to stem the blood—hoping it stopped long enough to get her to a fucking hospital. No earthly idea how bad the damage is, but if the blood trail and the puddle upstairs in the apartment is any indication, she’s in a pretty bad way.

My leg bounced the entire way to the hospital.

The way she giggled and licked at her fingers, smearing blood all over her delicate face had the hairs on my arms standing on their ends—regardless of the long sleeved shirt I put on today.

It will need to be replaced as soon as I’m back to Oregon, there’s not enough peroxide to get her life force out of the fibers.

Might drop Little Miss Sunshine here off at the emergency room and find the nearest supermarket for a replacement.

She’s clinging to me right now, her crimson-soaked face is a single breath away from the left side of mine, forgoing personal space as she sits on her knees in the ER chair.

Trying my fucking damndest to stay focused on the clipboard resting on my right leg while her teeth chatter next to me—scrawling her information on the intake forms. Shouldn’t be as surprised that I know as much as I do about her, but I am nonetheless.

Name, date of birth, parental information, address, phone number, insurance number her adoptive father had for her, current medications—or the lack thereof, height, weight, medical history. Everything really.

This shit isn’t necessary for my job, the medical part, but when Havok pulled her off that damn cross, something told me to brush up on the details in the event I needed them to keep her ass alive.

Here we are, in a local ER when I probably should have taken her to a vet by now.

The amount of blood coating her limbs, then being a young girl with an older guy like me?

People are going to ask the questions I’m not at liberty to share.

“Hey… stay here,” I say, looking over her smudged face and tangled blonde hair.

I’m no doctor but there’s something so damn wrong with her, she may need to spend some time in a more quiet room.

Then the shit her uncle did to her? She’s worse off now than she was when he first abducted her.

Sadie had bite then; fought hard against Lucien, and put more fear in him than he’s likely ever experienced.

Now though? The way she has gone a month or so since being medicated—on top of everything else—the ferocity she once had has now turned on her.

As if the animal inside is gnawing its way through her, nails and teeth scratching against the inside of her skin until it’s thin enough to rip open.

Lifting from the chair, Sadie follows me like she’s attached by an invisible strap.

I lean away from her and observe her for a second.

Her head rocks side to side as if she’s listening to headphones, or eager to get on some sort of thrill park ride.

Excited, in an unsettling and eerie type of way.

The fact that she’s standing up and not falling the hell over from exhaustion and blood loss is startling.

Luckless girl can be falling apart, breaking into a billion shards, and no one would have a damn clue.

“Sadie, I said stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“No.” She’s immediate in her response, a single syllable word trailed by whispers and series of sudden breaths.

“Yes. Sit down. That’s an order.”

Grabbing her biceps, I push her down onto the chair and give a firm glare, silently warning her to stay the fuck put. Even if I don’t mean it, I do everything to radiate the issue of consequences if she disobeys.

“Ten seconds. Count for me. One Mississippi, two Mississippi.”

She takes over, remaining where I deposited her so I can make my way to the registrar and hand back the clipboard through the glass barrier.

All of Sadie’s paperwork, her entire life rendered down to five sheets of copyprinted paper.

For a moment, I look back over my shoulder to see if she’s where I need her to be and breathe out slowly when my hopes are actually answered for once.

Facing forward, I clear my throat and shake my head when the girl at the window starts to pepper me with more questions that I won’t answer.

“Sir, we need all available information,” Ruth, her name is Ruth—that’s what it says on her employee badge anyway.

“No, you don’t. You have a sixteen year old girl of childbearing age bleeding out in your lobby.

You have what you need, now get her called back.

She has lost a lot of blood already and if it doesn’t stop, she will fall out on your floor.

Will be one awkward conversation to have with a lawyer when he shows up because his client has more money than this whole fucking hospital system combined. ”

“We don’t take kindly to threats, sir,” Ruth rebuts.

“Good thing it’s not a threat. Now, take the paper and do your little computer click-clicky thing and get her back.”

“TEN MISSISSIPPI!” Sadie bellows from her chair. The feral girl slides around in it as if it’s her own personal merry-go-round. “Where are youuuuuuuuu?” Sadie’s voice is jovial in its warning.

“Coming, Sunshine.”

Back at her side, she sits up straight in her seat. Bare feet skimming the basic tiled floor. Every time she grabs and squeezes the edge of the seat cushion, digging her nails into it, dry blood flakes off of her and onto the vinyl material.

“You took too long,” she says sharply, losing the playful edge that I have come to recognize as the volatile side of her. Can’t remember what the others called her, but she’s concerning.

Lowering back into my seat, my eyes meet hers.

Unwaveringly, I hold her stare. Silently establishing hierarchy with this unruly young woman.

This side shows itself when she is threatened which, if she felt intimidated by me, she would be attacking.

Sitting there, giving me grief about not coming back soon enough?

I think I’m in the clear—for now, at least. We will see how long that lasts.

Leaning closer to her and propping my elbow on the armrest, I give her my undivided attention, jaw tight, showing her I’m just as stubborn.

Hoping she doesn’t get too rowdy and the staff takes her back before the damage becomes too much.

“I’m a big boy, Sadie, I don’t need you to micromanage the things I do. I was only trying to get you back so the doctor can see you and fix your arms.”

“Don’t you like my pretty work?” she asks, her blood-stained teeth capturing her fuller bottom lip in an attempt to look innocent—but I’ve never met a nice devil.

Raising her arms, she looks at me, head tilted to the left when I refuse to respond to her.

She’s attempting to goad me, and I don’t want to play.

Instead, we have a staring contest for a few seconds until she gets uncomfortable—wrenching herself away with a huff. Petulant like.

Praying that’s the child in her trying to come back out. I’d rather her be immature than trying to commit a homicide.

“Why did you do that to yourself? People are going to want to lock you in a padded room when they see you acting this way and figuring out you hurt yourself.”

“No one is going to lock me away, if they do, I’ll kill them.” All matter of fact, she is.

“Your days of taking someone’s life are over. You’re going to get better; your parents are going to protect you, too. Keep you safe from Lucien and all of the other people who have hurt you. As long as you don’t cut yourself anymore.”

“D… don’t cut.” The change in her tone gives me whiplash.

Sadie sinks back in her chair, drawing her legs up to her chest and instantly tries to wrap her arms around her folded limbs.

When she winces, letting them drop to her sides, my heart lurches.

I find myself wishing I could take the pain away from her, to heal the damage she’s done to her alabaster skin—if only shit were that easy.

This though? Asking questions and finding out the truth is what I’m good at.

She’s a job, nothing more, and jobs come paired with duty I have swore to uphold.

“What happened, Sadie?” Asking again, I let my voice lower while keeping it even. Little psychological technique I picked up over the years. De-escalates and makes your detainee pay attention. Now, I know she’s not a hostage but it works on everyone.

A louder, more chipper, voice calls out from over my shoulder, “Sadie Wilson?”

Maintaining eye contact with her, she starts to shiver and sag in her chair—the spiritual adrenaline in her body dipping, causing her to crash.

Shifting, I slide my hand under her knees, the other behind her back and lift her slight frame.

We both vacate our seats and turn to the nurse who’s holding the door open with a tight smile and furrowed brows.

How dare we interrupt her job for her to do…

her job? Marching over, Sadie tilts her head to my bicep and speaks in a hushed tone as if she’s trying to throw my questioning approach in my face.

“Will get you all patched up, Sunshine. Promise. Hang in there for me, alright?”

“A… alright,” she sighs.