Chapter 4: Chapter 4

A couple minutes later, Doctor Adelman walks back into the room. He barely glances at the pieces of Ryland’s phone or the hole in the wall, and I wonder how fucking much they pay this guy to keep him from asking any questions.

It must be a lot.

“All right, Ayla.” He hands me a small slip of paper with the prescription scribbled on it. “Take it easy for the next few days, and if you notice any changes at all, any blurred vision or changes in speech, have one of these guys bring you back to see me, okay?”

I nod automatically, releasing Theo’s hand so I can take the prescription. Doctor Adelman hasn’t even given my amputated arm a second glance, I realize. I wonder if it’s because he’s a doctor and is used to stuff like this, or because the rest of me is such a shit-show it distracts the eye.

Ryland steps away from the wall, his spine going rigidly straight again. He glances at the hole his fist made. The plaster is torn through in a rough circular shape and a few red smears mar the wall around the hole. He must’ve split his knuckles open.

He doesn’t apologize or say anything else to Doctor Adelman, and the bearded man doesn’t seem to expect it. Instead, the doctor opens the door and gestures for us to follow him, leading us back out the way we came. When we step into the alley, it occurs to me that we’re stranded without a ride. Dominic is long gone—thank fuck—and there’s no way in hell we can hail a cab with me looking like this.

The guys don’t look much better, honestly. Theo’s front is stained with blood from when he hugged me, and both of them have dirt, scrapes, and more streaked blood on various parts of their bodies.

But as we step out onto the street, Ryland doesn’t even hesitate. Keeping me sandwiched between him and Theo, he steers me toward a slate-gray car I don’t recognize.

“Is this yours?”

I glance at him. It’s not a car I’ve ever seen him drive, but that doesn’t really mean much. I know all three of the men who invaded my life are loaded, so it’s not hard to imagine he has several cars.

“No. It’s a friend’s. I called a favor in.”

My eyebrows shoot up. Something in his tone suggests that this person isn’t actually much of a friend, and that the favor owed is more like a debt owed. I don’t bother pushing for more details though. Doctor Adelman’s pronouncement that I’ve just got a concussion was reassuring, but my head still pounds, and now that some of the adrenaline is wearing off, I feel shaky and exhausted.

The keys are stashed on top of the front tire, and I glance around as Ryland retrieves them and unlocks the doors. I don’t see anyone around, which means the owner of the car must’ve left, either on foot or in a cab or something.

Fuck. That’s some favor.

Theo slides into the back with me again, and Ryland starts the engine and pulls away from the curb. The blood on my clothes, skin, and hair is mostly dry by now, so I’m not fucking up the seat as badly as I probably wrecked Dominic’s.

We stop to pick up my prescription, and as we’re driving away from the drug store, a new thought hits me like a ton of bricks.

“My apartment…”

I haven’t thought about it since yesterday. So much has happened since then that it feels like the fire must’ve been years ago instead of barely twenty-four hours. Carson enlisted Natalie’s help to lure me out of Marcus’s house by torching my apartment building, and even before my abduction, I could see my apartment wasn’t going to be salvageable.

Everything I own, except for the duffel bag I packed for the weekend, was in that apartment.

I don’t have a place to live.

That thought should probably cause more panic than it does. Despite all the shit I went through during my time as a foster kid, I managed to avoid ever being truly homeless. No matter what else happened, I always had a roof over my head, and now I’ve lost that.

But it doesn’t seem to matter all that much right now. Not when I compare it to everything else that’s happened.

It was just a place. It was just stuff.

“I’m sorry, Rose,” Theo murmurs, turning his soft blue-green eyes on me.

Ryland doesn’t say anything, but as he takes a left turn, I realize where we’re headed. Where we’ve always been headed. He never even started driving toward my neighborhood, taking us instead to the part of Halston where the three men each have houses close to each other.

Something warm spreads through my chest, an antidote to the bitter pain that’s taken up residence there. I glance from Ryland to Theo as a lump forms in my throat.

“Thank you.”

It’s barely a whisper, and it’s not enough. Not enough to convey everything I need it to.

But it’s all I have.

Theo smiles at me sadly, threading his fingers through mine again and squeezing my hand. “Of course.”

Ryland pulls up outside a large house a few minutes later. It’s similar in size and style to Marcus’s place, and that similarity makes my stomach clench. I didn’t realize until this moment how comfortable and familiar Marcus’s house had started to feel. I felt safe there, in a way that had very little to do with physical protection.

You were safe there, a little voice whispers in my head. That’s why Marcus told you to stay.

But he never told me why I should stay, never told me that I might be risking my life if I stepped outside the protection of his walls. He was trying to protect me, to keep me insulated from the world he and his friends live in, but I can’t help but feel mad at him for it.

If he hadn’t lied to me, I wouldn’t have left his house. I wouldn’t have become an unwilling pawn, and the three men wouldn’t have had to abandon their position in the game to come get me.

And Marcus wouldn’t have gotten shot.

Like a series of dominoes falling, one lie set off a chain reaction that culminated in three gunshots I can still hear echoing in my ears.

Why couldn’t he have just told me?

“Hey. You okay?” Theo catches my elbow, and I realize my steps have stalled halfway up the path to his front door.

“Yeah.”

I try to give him a smile, but I know he doesn’t buy it. It feels more like a grimace even to me.

Shaking away my dark thoughts, I follow him inside the house, followed closely by Ryland. But as soon as I’m safely inside, Ryland turns around and heads for the door again.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

Maybe it’s a stupid question. He doesn’t live here, after all, so there’s no real reason to expect him to stay. But a strange flutter of panic ripples through me at the idea of him leaving. I feel like I need him here, even though I can’t quite articulate why.

He hesitates, glancing at me over his shoulder. For just a second, the hard lines of his face smooth out a little, his hazel eyes softening. “I’m gonna run over to Marcus’s place to get your stuff.”

“Oh.” I swallow. “Thank you.”

He dips his head in a nod. “Sure. Who knows, maybe there’ll be some sign of Marcus there. Maybe he…”

Ryland trails off, as if he knows he sounds like he’s grasping at straws. I can hear it too, but I can’t help the little spark of hope that lights inside my chest. “That’s a good idea.”

His jaw clenches, and the hardness I’m used to seeing on his face returns. He gives one more nod, then leaves.

“Come on, Rose.” Theo grabs the bottle of pills out of the little bag they came in, tosses the bag on a small table by the entryway, then pours a couple tablets into his hand. “First, get some painkillers in you. Second, shower. Sound good?”

I nod. All I really want to do is curl up in the fetal position and hope sleep comes for me, but I know it won’t until I do both of those things.

Theo leads me to the kitchen, where he gets me to eat a few crackers before handing me a glass of water and the pills. I swallow them down, then follow him upstairs. My mind is in too much of a daze for me to absorb much of my surroundings, but I notice that Theo seems to have a thing for art. He’s got several big pieces on the walls, paintings with bold colors and indefinable shapes. It’s not exactly what I would’ve expected from him, but somehow, it makes perfect sense.

He leads me down a hallway on the second floor, then opens a door and gestures me inside.

“Guest room,” he says as he steps in after me. “There are towels in the bathroom, and shampoo and shit in the shower.” His brows drop a little, and he steps forward, framing my face with his hands as he looks down at me. “You gonna be okay? You can get in bed right now if you want. I don’t give a shit about the sheets. I just thought maybe you’d want to…” He trails off, his gaze flicking down my body.

As if called up by his words, the lingering coppery scent of blood teases my nostrils. I’m sure I’ve smelled like this the whole time, but I’ve been able to tune it out a little, my mind focusing on other things.

My stomach roils, threatening to expel the crackers, pills, and water I just consumed. I grit my teeth and nod. “I do want to. Thanks.”

“Okay. Call if you need anything.”

Theo lingers near the bedroom door as I head toward the bathroom, watching me go. I can almost feel the conflict in him, the unwillingness to leave. It seems almost like he’s debating whether to stay and offer to help me, and a part of me wishes he would.

Things between us have always been a little confusing. Something has hovered in the air between us, even as my relationship with Marcus deepened and intensified. The way he looks at me sometimes, that kiss in the alley, the feeling of touching him while Marcus fucked me—it all speaks to something more between us.

And right now, with my world blown to smithereens, little pieces of it floating through the air like dust, Theo and Ryland feel like the only two people in the world I can trust.

The only real things that exist in a world that barely makes sense anymore.

I need them, in a way that scares me a little to think about.

My steps slow a little as I reach the bathroom door, giving Theo a chance to speak up if he wants. But when he doesn’t say anything, I slip into the bathroom and close the door softly behind me.

Maybe it’s for the best. I’m fucked up in the head right now anyway. Maybe I just need to be alone.

As I step toward the shower, my gaze snags on the mirror over the sink. I blink, a fresh wave of nausea washing over me.

Jesus.

How did the men look at me without grimacing? How did Doctor Adelman do his exam without running screaming from the room?

I look like an extra in a horror movie—one who dies in the first fucking scene. Blood mats my dark hair, giving the dark locks an odd auburn sheen. My hair is a tangled mess, and I’ve got a few scratches and bruises on my face. My skin and clothes are caked with blood, and now that it’s drying, it’s starting to flake off in little red particles.

The red flowers of my tattoo blend in with the blood on my arm, and a shiver runs down my spine as I stare at the ink. I remember thinking once how much the roses looked like pools of blood, and now it’s impossible to get that thought out of my head.

With a sudden vicious movement, I yank my crusted shirt over my head and throw it into a corner of the bathroom. I unhook my bra and hurl it after my top, then shove my pants down as I kick off my shoes. I’m usually pretty good at doing shit like this one-handed, but my muscles feel sluggish and uncoordinated, and I have to grab the sink counter to steady myself when I overbalance and almost fall over.

When my clothes are finally all in a pile in the corner, I turn on the water and step under the spray. It’s cold at first, and I hiss out a breath as the cool droplets cascade over my skin. The painkiller is starting to kick in, but I’m careful to avoid the large knot on the side of my head as I run my hand slowly through my dark hair, letting the gradually warming water break up the clumps of clotted blood.

I don’t look down as I scrub my hair and then my body, not wanting to see the pink-tinged water as it swirls down the drain. The coppery scent gets worse before it gets better, hanging in the steamy air until I massage shampoo into my hair twice.

When I step out of the shower and glance at myself in the steam-fogged mirror again, I look slightly more human—but still half-zombie. My fingertips ghost over the three scars on my chest before moving up to brush across a bruise on my collarbone. Now that all the blood that wasn’t mine is washed off, I can see the bruises and scrapes on my own body better. None of them are bad, nothing that won’t heal, but they dot my skin at regular intervals, each one a reminder of everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours.

“Hey, Rose? You decent?” Theo’s muffled voice comes through the door, and I wonder if he’s been waiting to hear the shower turn off. “I’ve got some clothes for you.”

“Thanks.”

Tearing my gaze away from the mirror and the girl with pale skin, dark hair, and haunted blue eyes, I grab a towel from the rack and wrap it around myself.

Steam billows out of the bathroom when I open the door, making me wonder for a second how long I was in the shower. Time doesn’t seem to mean much right now; it could’ve been hours or minutes, and I wouldn’t know the difference.

Theo’s gaze travels down my body quickly as if he’s assessing me for damage. It looks like he’s showered too, changing out of his blood-stained clothes into fresh ones. Concern shines in his blue-green eyes, but when he meets my gaze, he offers a small smile and hands over some pajamas I recognize as ones I left at Marcus’s place.

I take them, my heart skipping unevenly in my chest. “Ryland’s back? Did he find—”

“No.” Theo’s smile slips. “The place was empty. No sign that Marcus has been there.”

Goddammit.

I expected that answer, but it breaks my heart anyway.

“Fuck.” My fingers tighten around the clothes, twisting and bunching the fabric. “What else can we do then? Can we—”

“You can sleep,” Theo interrupts gently. “Doctor Adelman said you need to take it easy, and Marcus will kill us if we let you push yourself too hard and end up making things worse. Ry and I talked after he got back. We’re expanding our search for security footage to a wider perimeter to see if we can pick anything up. A car. A license plate. A face. Anything.”

It still doesn’t seem like enough. But they’re already doing more than I could, and despite the anxious energy pouring through me, my exhaustion is winning.

“Okay,” I murmur. “But tomorrow, I want to help.”

Theo nods, and I step back and close the door. I towel dry my hair and then put on the sleep clothes Theo brought me. I wore them both nights I slept in Marcus’s bed over the weekend, and as I slip the tank top on over my head, his scent tickles my nostrils—clean and fresh, with a hint of something like rich leather.

It’s an addictive aroma, something that I’ve come to associate purely with Marcus. As I breathe in the lingering smell of him, tears I haven’t allowed myself to cry yet burn behind my eyes.

Please. Please, Marcus. Don’t be fucking dead.

I blink hard, clinging with everything inside me to the last scraps of hope I have, then hang my towel up and step back into the bedroom.

Theo is sitting on the bed, and I start a little when I see him. I expected him to be back downstairs with Ryland by now, but he’s obviously been waiting for me. He stands up when he sees me, stuffing his hands into his pockets and tilting his head slightly.

“Anything else you need?”

“No. Thank you.”

He nods, then crosses to the window and closes the curtains, turning the room gray and semi-dark. He tugs back the covers on the bed and gestures for me to get in.

The second my body hits the mattress, my eyelids start to droop. I’ve been going on pure determination and adrenaline for a long time, but I’ve got nothing left.

Theo tugs the blankets up to my shoulders, then leans over and presses a kiss to my temple. “Sleep tight, Rose.”

He straightens back up, but before he can step away, my hand reaches out from beneath the covers, snagging his.

Theo pauses, looking down at our tangled fingers before glancing at my face. I can see the question in his eyes, and the answer comes easily to my tongue.

“Stay,” I whisper. “Please.”

There are a million reasons why he might say no. I’m being needy right now, and I know it, my defenses and layers of armor broken down by everything I’ve been through this weekend.

But Theo doesn’t say anything at all. He just kicks off his shoes and crawls beneath the covers beside me, looping an arm around my waist and pulling me into the warm cradle of his body.

My head tucks under his chin, and the last thing I’m aware of before sleep claims me is the soft, steady drum of his heartbeat.