Page 1 of The Burdens We Share (Satan’s Angels #3)

Ivory,

Thre Months Ago

The linoleum floors of the hospital are squeaky beneath my pink cowboy boots.

I keep my eyes trained on my feet as I place one foot in front of the other, counting the tiles squares as I make my way down the hall.

The fluorescent light dims the halls around me, making me feel as if I’m being swallowed up into some nightmare I can’t seem to wake from.

The shadows creep closer and my breaths become more rapid.

Don’t look up. Don’t look up. The minute I look up, I know I’ll be brought back to that place. That day.

I hate hospitals. I hated them so much after my father died of a heart attack in one.

That was five years ago and I still haven’t stepped foot in a hospital, too afraid to relive the nightmare of losing him.

Much like what I’m experiencing right now.

You may be wondering why I’m in a hospital after all this time spent avoiding them.

The answer to that question is because my best friend, Aria Kane, was drugged and abducted last night.

To make a long story short, Aria is dating Slater Nicks, drummer for Thunderstrike, a heavy metal band.

In said band was guitarist, Rogan Loughlin, a mentally deranged and psychopathic man who had it out for Slater for years.

Rogan drugged Aria last night and brought her to his hotel room to do God only knows what to her, but Slater found her just in time.

Now, she’s recovering in the hospital and I broke my five-year-long hospital ban for her.

In truth, there’s nobody else I would willingly enter a hospital for aside from Brody, our other best friend, and Selene, our manager who doubles as our friend. When we got the call that Aria was here, it wasn’t even a matter of if I would come see her, but when.

I just left her room, and I’m relieved to find that she’s okay, but now I’m finding my chest constricting and struggling to get air in.

I keep my eyes glued to my boots on these white sterile floors in fear that if I look up, I’m gonna be brought back to my father’s hospital room with him on his deathbed.

I jolt as a hand lands on my shoulder but keep my head down. “Hey, you okay?” Brody’s voice worries in my ear. She speaks low so as not to draw the attention of her boyfriend, Harvey, and his friend and business partner, Dallas.

I nod without looking up, wiggling my toes inside my boots in anxiousness. “Fine,” I answer quietly.

She grabs my arm and pulls me towards her.

I trust her with my life, so I don’t question what she’s doing until the linoleum disappears and is replaced by beige tiled floor.

I hear the sound of elevator doors closing and know right away we’re leaving the hospital.

The knowledge allows my breaths to come in easier, the weight on my chest slowly lifting as the elevator gets lower and lower to the lobby where I can run out to my car and get the fuck out of here.

Brody stands close to my side, angling her head down slightly to meet my ear, “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

I shake my head, “No.”

She exhales and I can practically hear the concern in her voice, “Okay, but if you change your mind you know you can always come to me.”

I nod, “I know.” And I do. I know that Brody, Aria, and Selene will always be there for me and that they will always have my back.

I can depend on them for anything. I can count on them in ways I can never count on my own family.

These girls have become my family these last five years and I love them all so much, I can’t imagine ever losing any of them.

The elevator doors open and I immediately rush out and through the lobby, focusing only on my steps. Don’t look up. Don’t look up.

Once I make it to the door, I push it open with all of my strength and step out onto the concrete.

I exhale a pent-up breath, already feeling ten times lighter on my feet.

I finally look up and take in the busy streets of Los Angeles, the people, the sounds, everything.

I focus on all of it rather than the building behind me and the sorrowful memories it resurfaces in my mind.

I hear the door open and close behind me and I turn to find Brody frowning at me with concern etched into her features.

My best friend is beautiful. She has long waves of blond hair on her head with black strands woven in.

Her skin is sunkissed from the California rays and her deep blue eyes are narrowed at me in worry.

I look over her shoulder to find Harvey with a raised brow aimed at me.

Where Brody’s features are lighter, Harvey’s are darker.

He has a mass of dark hair on his head with pitch-black eyes.

His eyes are so dark, yet they seem to lighten when they’re set on Brody.

Harvey used to be Brody’s sober coach and live-in babysitter.

He was supposed to get her clean and sober and keep her well-behaved.

The relationship was strictly professional at one point, until it wandered into the non-professional territory, and now eight months later, they’re living together and as happy as ever.

Harvey’s presence is dark, but the presence I feel coming from beside him has my muscles tensing and the blood running through my veins stopping.

Dallas Carter watches me with what looks like intrigue in his hazel eyes.

His hands are stuffed into the pockets of his Armani suit and his lips are pressed into a straight line.

Dallas is Harvey’s business partner and friend.

They own a private security company and Dallas has been a huge help in the whole Rogan-Slater-Aria mess.

Selene seems to like and trust him, but there’s just something about him that makes my stomach drop every time he’s near.

His eyes stare so intensely into mine that I force myself to look away as my cheeks turn pink.

The way he looks at me makes me feel like I’ve been stripped bare before him.

What unsettles me the most about him is that he’s so hard to read.

His facial expressions never give so much as a clue as to what’s going on in that annoyingly attractive head of his.

I mean seriously, does the guy have to be so attractive?

He looks like he was sent from Heaven. Or maybe Hell. Hell is probably more fitting.

Brody’s lips part as if she’s about to ask me a question, most likely whether or not I’m okay for the hundredth time, but my phone pings with a new text inside my white leather purse, saving me from having to answer that question and lie to my best friend’s face.

I quickly open my purse and fish my phone out, rifling through dozens of lip glosses, eyelash spoolies, and various cosmetics in the process.

When my fingers lock around my pink cherry phone case, I silently thank whoever the sender is for sparing me from Brody’s distressed eyes.

I tap the home screen to illuminate it and see who sent the text.

It’s most likely my mother complaining about something else Sam did or asking me to reprimand him, her own son, for her.

Irritation grows inside me as I anticipate whatever trouble Sam could’ve gotten himself into now, except when my eyes land on the sender of the message, that irritation quickly morphs into confusion because the message is from a blocked number.

My brows pull together as I unlock my phone to read the message.

BLOCKED

My Darling, you look so troubled. I know

how you hate hospitals. I’m sorry

you have to be in one right now. I see you

so clearly, it’s as if we’re connected. You

have no idea how good it feels to be this

close to you, watching. I’m always watching.

What in the fifty shades of fucked up is this?

I immediately look up, my eyes scanning my vicinity to see if someone, whoever sent this message could be lurking somewhere.

I feel foolish when my eyes find nobody watching.

This is probably some kind of prank. A really weird and really creepy prank, but this has to be a prank.

I have no doubt Aria probably thought it would be funny to prank me from her hospital bed.

Who else would know about my fear of hospitals?

The only people who would know that about me are Aria, Brody, Selene, my mom, and my brother.

A hand landing on my shoulder makes me jump and I look up to find Brody standing directly in front of me, her head tilted as she frowns. “Iv, what’s going on?”

I give her a shaky smile, stuffing my phone back into my purse, “Nothing. Just my mom. I’ll call her later,” I lie.

I hate lying to my best friend. I don’t even know why I’m lying.

The text unsettled me, but I don’t even know why.

If it was just a prank I shouldn’t worry about it at all.

I think the lingering effects of being in the hospital are making me weird.

I feel a set of deep, hazel green eyes boring into the side of my face and reluctantly make eye contact with Dallas who’s looking down at me from where he stands about five feet away.

I immediately look down under the intensity of his stare and focus back on Brody, “Look, I gotta go. I should call her back. I’m sure Sam did something to get himself into trouble and you know how that goes,” I lie again. Why can’t I stop lying?

Brody uses the hand she has on my shoulder to draw me into a tight hug. I hug her back. “I love you. Text me when you get home, okay?”

“I will. I love you too,” I speak into her shoulder, but my voice comes out muffled.

A con of being the short friend in the group is that I always get suffocated in hugs.

Aria is seven inches taller than I am, and Brody is only two inches taller, but I still get eaten alive.

It’s just one of the many trials and tribulations of being Ivory Aslan.

I pull out of Brody’s hug and wave a quick goodbye to Harvey and Dallas, avoiding all eye contact with Dallas as I do so, before turning on my cowboy-booted heel and making my way to my car.

I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know Dallas is staring at my back the entire time. It only fuels me to walk faster.

Once I make it to my white Mercedes-Maybach, I quickly unlock the car and slide into the custom pink leather seats I had put in.

I take a moment to exhale a pent up breath before resting my hands on my steering wheel.

I have to center myself. I take a few breaths, trying to force the lingering hospital anxiety at bay when the text pops back into my head.

It was creepy in a way that makes me question whether or not Aria really could’ve been behind it, but for the sake of my mental, I’m going to tell myself it was from her.

I reach back into my purse and withdraw my phone once more, opening the text once more and staring at the screen for what could only be a few minutes before I eventually decide to delete the message and put my phone back in my bag. Out of sight, out of mind, I say.

I press the start button on my car, already feeling the weight of the message removed from my chest, and when I look up to pull out of the parking lot, I catch sight of Dallas, standing right at his black, Rolls-Royce Spectre.

He’s standing by the door, his hand on the handle, but he’s not moving.

Instead, he’s focused entirely on me with an expression that looks a lot like interest and maybe a bit of curiosity, but it’s hard to tell because the man is just impossible to read.

I quickly put my car into drive and begin pulling out of the parking lot and away from Dallas.

The man is absolutely terrifying to me. I’ve probably only spoken about two words to him the entire time he’s been involved with Selene and our band, but his presence and intensity speak more than any words could.

There’s just something so dark and tortured about Dallas that unsettles me.

I continue driving, relaxing more into my seat as Dallas and the hospital vanish behind me. What a fucking day.