Page 21

21

MASON

I was sitting in the ER at George Washington University’s hospital, which was about as cheery as you’d expect an ER to be late at night. The fluorescent lighting overhead did a fantastic job of making everything—and everyone—look worse for the wear. The faint odor of antiseptics clung to the air, mixing with the stale smell of burnt coffee that had clearly been sitting too long. Nurses and techs rushed by at breakneck speed, their rubber shoes squeaking like hamsters on a wheel.

At least I was finally back here. I’d sat in the waiting room forever, and for a while, I thought they might send me home without even seeing me. Honestly, I would’ve preferred that—I’d be back with Kai by now. But apparently, they really did want to dot their i’s and cross their t’s , so here I was. Waiting.

I wasn’t hooked up to anything—not even an IV—which had to be a good sign. But the curtain covering my bay didn’t do much to muffle the incessant beeping of monitors, the hacking coughs from other patients, or the periodic sirens wailing outside as yet another ambulance pulled up.

I glanced down at the bed I was sitting on, the back raised most of the way up. The thin padding offered little comfort, and my ribs were still complaining about the beating they’d taken not that long ago. The scratchy hospital sheet seemed like it was designed specifically to keep anyone from getting too comfortable, as if the whole situation weren’t uncomfortable enough already.

Nurses and techs had come by to poke and prod me. They were efficient, but about as warm as the lighting. Blood drawn, chest X-rayed, rinse, repeat. Every time I tried to get more information, I got the same rehearsed hospital speech. They might as well have been reading from cue cards.

We won’t know more until we do some tests. Probably nothing, but it’s good to be sure. Hold still. This won’t hurt too much.

I’d hissed as the needle went in and wondered what exactly their definition of too much was.

After all the tests were done, they stuck me back in this curtained-off bay with nothing but vague promises that a doctor would return soon to give me the results and let me know if I needed to stay longer.

That had been an hour ago.

I fidgeted. I knew that in a busy ER, I was a low-priority patient. I wasn’t bleeding from a gunshot wound or walking around with a bone sticking out of my leg. I could hear snippets of other emergencies unfolding nearby—a paramedic giving a rushed report about a car accident victim, a toddler crying, begging their parents not to let the nurse give them a shot.

But still, would it kill someone to tell me if I was secretly harboring a tumor?

I tried not to think about the fact that the longer I waited, the more serious it might be. Probably just a shadow, they’d said. They’d made it sound like it was nothing.

So why was I still waiting?

I shifted on the narrow bed, wincing as my ribs reminded me I was supposed to be restricting my movements, and thought about Kai back home. I knew he’d been anxious tonight, even if he was trying to hide it. I hoped he’d finally calmed down enough to get some sleep. I smiled faintly, picturing waking him up and showing him just how much I’d missed him.

This whole happiness thing still felt strange—even wrong. I didn’t feel like I deserved it, and part of me was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every happy moment felt like a fragile glass ornament, something that might shatter if I brushed against it the wrong way.

But I could see Kai’s face in my mind’s eye—the way his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, the warmth that softened the sharp edges of my fears. My chest filled with something vivid and unfamiliar. It hurt in the best way. I didn’t ever want to let him down again.

Ten minutes later, I was still waiting, and the sterile confines of the hospital were starting to feel oppressive. The air seemed heavier, charged with urgency. Restless, I pulled out my phone. With the curtain drawn, I had a little privacy. Maybe I’d send Kai a few pictures of my own, something to distract him and lighten the mood.

I smiled, my chest warming at the thought, but the feeling vanished as a notification appeared on my phone screen. A bead of sweat rolled down my temple, and my pulse quickened. The message was from the company that made the location tracker I’d tried—and failed—to stick in the stalker’s shoe. For the past week, it had been a useless piece of evidence, gathering dust at the police station.

But now, it was on the move.

Quickly, I opened the app that tracked its location and tapped over to the active viewing screen. A little red dot blinked on a map of DC, stark against the muted grays and blues of the interface. It was leaving the police station, a tiny speck of foreboding that made my stomach twist.

I stared, heart in my throat, watching the dot linger for a couple of minutes right outside the station. Then it started moving again—towards Wisconsin Avenue, then taking a right and heading south.

Why was it moving?

My brain jumped to the worst-case scenario—because when didn’t it? Had the stalker somehow gotten into the station and taken it? No, that didn’t make any sense. If Kai’s stalker knew about the tracker, they’d avoid it completely. Which brought me back to my first question—why the hell was it moving?

Could the police be bringing it back to Kai’s house? Why now, after keeping it for a week?

I froze, realizing something. The police had never asked Kai or me about the tracker. They’d just swept it up with the rest of the evidence like it was nothing. But that was odd, wasn’t it? Wouldn’t they want to know who it belonged to?

My sense of unease grew. I swiped over to my messages and began typing out a text to Kai, warning him that the cops might be on their way. I wished I were there with him. I didn’t want him answering the door alone.

Then I looked up, staring unseeing at the curtain in front of me. Why would the police be going to Kai’s house now?

It was 10:45 at night. Even if Myers or Branscombe were still working the case, they wouldn’t bother Kai unless he was in imminent danger. Unless…

My blood ran cold.

Unless Kai was in danger from the cops.

It felt like I’d been kicked in the ribs all over again as everything clicked into place. Myers’s refusal to take the case seriously. His aloofness. His weird back-and-forth between being dismissive and uncomfortably intense. His claim that none of the security cameras had caught anything—and his insistence on checking the footage himself.

Kai had said Myers didn’t like him, and I’d brushed it off.

But maybe Kai had been right.

I gripped my phone tightly as a pit opened in my stomach. Myers had never mentioned the tracker. But then, why would he, if he didn’t know it was there? If he were the one who’d attacked me—if he’d gone back to the station after, changed out of those shoes, and left them behind—then by the time I’d been conscious enough to check, it would’ve looked the same to me as if the tracker had been collected as evidence.

And all this time, it had been sitting in Myers’s sneaker. Left alone—until he needed those shoes again to go back to Kai’s house and finish the job.

Dread twisted inside me as I remembered the receptionist’s confusion over why I’d returned to the ER. That phone call I’d gotten—it had come from a doctor, or so I’d thought. But it could have been Myers, now that I thought about it. Myers, trying to make sure I’d be out of the way so he could get to Kai without me interfering.

All the hospital noise faded as I saw the scene playing out in my head. Myers knocking on Kai’s door, claiming he was in danger. Kai would let him in, of course. And then Myers would be able to do whatever he wanted—to Kai, to the house, to the security camera footage. The company had already given the police access to the security system. He could erase any trace of his presence.

I jumped up from my hospital bed and shoved through the curtain. Kai was all alone right now.

And I was the only one who could protect him.