Page 9 of Wicked Princess (Knight's Ridge Empire 2)

CHAPTERTHREE

Sebastian

“This is fucking bullshit,” I spit, ripping my arm from Theo’s grasp. “She can’t be in there alone.”

“This whole hospital is teeming with our men. No one is going to touch her here.”

“Not fucking good enough. I should be in there. I need to be in there.”

Theo stares at me as I push my fingers through my hair and pull.

The only other time I’ve ever felt this useless in my life was that moment ten days ago when I dropped to my knees beside her in the graveyard and pulled her body into my arms.

“She fucking needs me.”

“Did you want to tell her that?” Theo mutters.

“You fucking—”

“I will kick both of you out for good if you continue,” a scary-ass nurse barks down the hallway.

My jaw tics with frustration as I glare at my best friend.

He doesn’t understand.

How could he?

He didn’t find her. He didn’t have that terrifying moment when I really thought she was dead. That whoever it was who took her ripped something else away from me.

“I fucking need her.”

“I know, man.”

The nurse’s eyes still burn into my side, her warning loud and clear as Theo steps up to me once more, only this time, it’s not to fight. His chest crashes against mine as he wraps his arms around me in an unusual show of affection.

Emotion clogs my throat and tears burn my eyes, but I force it all down.

I need to stay alert. I need to fucking focus, because there’s no chance in hell that anyone is getting anywhere near her ever again.

After a few seconds and a solid couple of hits to my back, Theo releases me.

His eyes study mine for a beat, clearly seeing everything I’m trying to hide.

“You should come home and get some rest. Or maybe a shower. Mate, I love you, but you fucking stink.”

“I’m not leaving,” I state, my voice firm. “She just fucking woke up. I’m not leaving. Not now.”

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Theo drops onto one of the chairs that line the hallway out here. Also known as my new home.

Following his move, I fall down beside him, resting my elbows on my knees and dropping my head into my hands.

I’m fucking exhausted. But I refuse to do anything about it.

I’m not the one with a fucking stab wound in my stomach. I’m not the one who nearly died from blood loss.

“She hates me,” I say, my voice cold and empty. Just like my soul, I guess.

“This isn’t your fault, Seb.”