Page 140 of Ravaged Soul

“She isn’t our prisoner.” I turn hard, sending us almost sailing on two wheels. “And we both know Ember wouldn’t listen to any of us if we told her she can’t do something.”

In the backseat, Madden mutters an affirmative into Warner’s mobile phone then flings it back up front.

“The terrible twosome are going down there themselves,” he announces.

“Lord help the Metropolitan Police,” Warner mumbles.

“Hudson said they’ll take control and update us later.”

“Fine. Let’s focus on finding Em and Hy.”

East London’s closest hospital comes into view, denoted by glaring emergency department signs. I park up directly outside the Accident and Emergency, my Sabre ID badge at the ready to ward off the security posted outside.

They chunter in disapproval before waving for us to head inside. I follow Warner’s heavy steps, letting Madden bring up the rear. Warner bellows at the receptionist so loud that her cheeks turn pink as she waves us through to the ward.

“Ember Lawson and Hyland Wesson!” Warner doesn’t wait for the two nurses behind the counter to look up at us before he’s shouting at them.

One of them checks the stacks of patient rosters behind the desk, asking a bunch of stupid questions rather than giving us what we want. Patience expired, I rip the clipboard from her hand, causing her to yelp in shock.

“Excuse me! Sir!”

“You’re too slow,” I growl.

“This is highly inappropriate?—”

“Then sue me.”

She huffs, ranting about calling security while I scan the list of occupied bays. Bingo. Twelve and Eighteen. Ignoring the nurses’ chorus of rants, Warner storms inside when I point straight ahead.

The hospital curtain is practically torn off its metal rings, ripped open to reveal the occupied clinical space inside. Perched on the edge of a white bed, Ember stares at the doctor in front of her, holding up several fingers for her to count.

“Em!” Warner lumbers towards her.

She blinks slowly like we’re little more than a mirage. When her muddied gaze lands on me, Ember frowns, the motion pulling the butterfly stitches across a big, swollen cut along her forehead, visible despite a misting of blood.

“Ember.” I stumble in my rush to approach the bed. “Fuck, babe. You scared us to death.”

“You came back.” She slurs a little. “Where did you go?”

“I’m right here, Em. All of us are.”

Warner hovers his hands over her face, pulling short of yanking her into him. I tangle my fingers with hers while Madden loosely clutches her scrape-littered shoulder, exposed by her torn workout tank.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” Warner drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You terrified us for a second there.”

“A-Accident.” Her stilted words tumble out. “Crash.”

“We know, Em. It’s okay.”

“H-Hyland?”

“He’s okay,” Warner tries to calm her. “You’re both alive.”

“Bleeding… H-He wasn’t waking up.”

All over her arms, shallow grazes and lacerations mark her skin along with a severe case of road rash. She’s already bruised up, her lip fat and head sliced, though it could be a lot worse if the wreckage they left behind is to be believed.

“You.” She gawps at me strangely. “You were there.”