Page 57 of The Burdens We Share (Satan’s Angels #3)

Dallas

She hasn’t woken up yet. It’s been three days. Three days of agonizing torture that feels much like being stabbed only for the wound to heal and then being stabbed again in the same spot.

After my courageous girl caught Calvin off guard and saved herself, slicing the side of his face, I shot him right between the eyes just as the SWAT team started firing shots into his chest. I had raised a hand to stop them just as Calvin fell back and wasted no time rushing to my girl.

I’d pulled her into my arms and sunk my face into the crook of her neck, breathing in her familiar scent and reassuring myself that she was alive.

Harvey had an ambulance on the way and I haven’t left her side once.

Not when they hauled her onto a stretcher and rushed her to the emergency room, not when they stitched up her arm and gave her a blood transfusion, not when they cleaned up the blood on her face and applied liquid bandage to her facial wounds, and especially not when they set her up in her own room with an IV drip and a breathing tube.

Lucky. That’s what they’d called her. The doctors were surprised she made it considering how much blood she lost. Strong. That’s what I call her because she fought tooth and fucking nail to survive.

I sit at her bedside day and night just watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. I need to watch her breathe so that I can breathe.

A part of me worries every time her chest falls that it won’t rise back up.

I know it’s all residual fear from nearly losing her, but it’s fear I don’t think will ever go away.

Not after seeing the condition that piece of shit left her in.

A hand grips my shoulder, “You gotta eat, man. I brought you a sandwich from Romeo’s.

” Harvey’s voice is stern, but I can hear the concern in it.

He’s in the same boat that I’m in. He hasn’t once left Brody’s side since that night because part of him worries that the second he does, she’ll be gone again and he may not get her back this time.

I know the feeling all too well. And so does Slater.

I don’t even look up at him, “I’m not hungry.”

He sighs, “You’re no good to her if you’re dying of starvation.”

I reply, “It can take up to three months to die of starvation. It’s been three days.

I’ll be fine.” I can’t eat. I don’t have the stomach for it.

Not when Ivory still hasn’t woken up and not when there’s a strong chance she’ll never be able to look me in the eye when she realizes that Calvin targeted her because of me and that everything she went through has been my fault.

Brody’s soothing voice comes from somewhere beside Harvey. “Dallas, she’s going to be fine. The docs said that she could wake up any minute.”

“They said that yesterday,” I remind her, again not removing my eyes from Ivory’s face.

Harvey tosses a bag in my lap, “Eat the fucking sandwich.”

I finally look up at him and see the same look on his face that houses what I feel inside.

Brody sits beside me and reaches for my hand, gently squeezing it.

Her face is banged up. She’s got some bruising on her cheek and forehead along with a split in her lip, but aside from that she looks like her usual self.

“She would want you to stop worrying so much and eat the damn sandwich and you know it.”

Two figures enter the room and my gaze shifts to focus on them.

Aria and Slater. Out of the three girls, Aria definitely looks the best in terms of injuries.

She just has a shallow cut on the bridge of her nose and some light bruising on her arms. Slater’s hand is in hers and the sight makes jealousy rise in my chest like an angry storm.

I should be holding Ivory’s hand right now.

She should be conscious, alert enough to look up at me with those perfect chocolate eyes of hers.

Aria frowns when she sees Ivory still unconscious, “Still nothing?”

Brody shakes her head and reaches for the bag on my lap, careful not to touch me.

She reaches inside and withdraws the sandwich, unwrapping it partially and extending it to me.

I make no move to reach for it, but Harvey shoots me a warning glare like he’d personally harm me for not accepting Brody’s kindness, so I take the sandwich and shove it into my mouth, taking a bite.

I don’t taste it, I just chew and swallow so that they get off my back.

Brody gives me a soft, satisfied smile before she rises from her seat and stands at Harvey’s side.

Aria asks, “Has anyone seen Selene?”

Brody answers, “She went to the bathroom a while ago and never came back.”

Aria’s brows knit together with worry, “Should we check on her?”

Brody nods, “Yeah, let’s go.”

Harvey grunts and Brody stops, turning on her heel and smiling at him softly, “I promise I won’t get kidnapped again by a deranged stalker. The bathroom is just down the hall.”

Aria adds, “Plus we’re using the buddy system.”

Harvey dips his chin and Brody walks over to Aria. “Buddy system,” he emphasizes, reminding the girls to not leave each other’s sides.

Brody responds by grabbing Aria’s hand and raising it high in the air for everyone to see as they both exit the room and make their way down the hall leaving Harvey, Slater, and I with an unconscious Ivory.

Slater frowns, “What they went through-”

Harvey cuts him off, “They’ll never go through it again. He’s dead.”

An expression of rage takes over Slater’s face, “He could’ve killed them. If we had gotten there only minutes later, they could all be dead right now. How are you both not freaking the fuck out?”

“I am freaking the fuck out. Just on the inside where nobody can see it,” I snap.

Harvey adds, “Personally, I’m trying not to think about the ‘what ifs’ because the minute I do, my blood pressure tends to rise and I want to bring that piece of shit back from the dead only so I can kill him again myself.”

Slater sighs, rubbing his face, “I’m sorry. I’m just still anxious over thinking they could’ve been dead.”

“But they aren’t,” Harvey reminds him. Reminds me too.

The heart rate monitor starts beeping, drawing my immediate attention.

Her heart is beating faster, stronger. I look down at her face just as her thick lashes start to flutter open.

My eyes widen with anticipation and I rise from my seat, hovering over her immediately.

When her eyes connect with mine, it feels like I’m breathing again for the first time in three days.

The remnants of my heart start to stitch themselves back together and a weight lifts off of my shoulders.

Her jaw moves and she moans like she’s trying to speak, but she winces and coughs around the tube in her throat. Her hand reaches up and I grab it, stopping her. “Don’t move, baby. Let me get a nurse.”

“I got it,” Slater rushes out of the room and returns seconds later with a nurse who paces over to Ivory’s side and removes the tube from her throat.

Ivory coughs and the nurse sits her up, reaching for a plastic cup on the side table and filling it with water. Ivory chugs it down and empties it, handing it back to the nurse who sets it down on the table. “I’ll let the doctor know she’s awake,” the nurse explains before she exits the room.

I look down at Ivory and watch as she takes in her surroundings, her eyes roaming over the hospital room and the faces of Slater and Harvey.

She looks frantic, panicked. When her eyes land on me she seems to relax and it sends hope rushing through me, but I remind myself that look may be replaced by hate when she finds out the truth.

She reaches for my hand and squeezes, “Aria and Brody?” She asks, worry in her eyes.

“Safe,” I answer, reassuring her.

Harvey steps closer to the bed, “Safe because of you. Thank you.” He’s talking about what Brody and Aria told us. That when they split up and ran in three different directions, it was because Ivory knew Calvin would leave them alone and come after her only.

Slater also steps up, “Yes. Thank you. I’m so glad you’re okay,” his expression is warm as he offers her a gentle smile.

She returns it, “Thank you.”

Harvey offers, “We’ll give you some privacy.” And we watch in silence as he and Slater exit the room, closing the door behind them and leaving Ivory and I alone.

My face falls when the door closes and my stoicism wavers. “Ivory, I’m so so-”

“Shut up,” she interrupts me. Her face is hard, stern like a teacher reprimanding a student.

This is it. This is where she tells me she never wants to see me again and that she hates me.

I welcome it because it’s what I deserve even though it feels like I’m dying slowly.

“Do not ever tell me you’re sorry,” she adds, softness in her voice and something that sounds a lot like empathy.

I give her a confused expression, “What? You can’t possibly mean that. Not after what I have to tell you. Calvin was targeting you because of-”

She cuts me off again, “Because he blamed you for Lita’s death. I remember the story.”

She knows? How could she possibly know and still be able to look me in the eye let alone hold my hand? “You know that he went after you because of me?”

Ivory nods, “I know that he’s a sick psychopath and that he stalked me and became obsessed with me because he discovered that I meant something to you, yes.”

I scoff, “How can you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t hate me. Like you don’t blame me for him stalking you, torturing you, kidnapping you and your friends, and nearly killing you,” I remind her, shock in my tone.

She blinks at me before a small curl takes over the corner of her lip, “I remember what happened, I was there unfortunately.” She squeezes my hand tighter, “And I don’t blame you because it’s not your fault.”