Chapter 48: Vicious Bonds: Chapter 48

Dealing with Willow was meant to be a simple exchange. I figure out how to get her back to her world, and things go back to the way they were. That’s no longer the case, and I realize that as she lies on my lap and the worry has seized me. I had one job—to get her back—and if she dies, I’ve failed. I hardly ever fail. That alone is eating me alive.

Rowan drives, and Killian rides passenger. Juniper is in the back seat with me, Willow’s legs on her lap, and Silvera is on the floor of the car, nuzzling Willow’s hand. We’d left her in the car before going into Rami’s club. Juniper gives me a look, but I pull my eyes away before I can digest what that look means.

I’m sure she’s wondering why I have Willow so close to me. No one would believe it. Hell, I can’t even believe it. Here this woman is, lying on my lap, and it doesn’t bother me. I’ve never let anyone lie on me, but with her…it’s different. And I felt that when I shot Rami through his fucking skull. When she threw her arms around me, it was as if I could see the world a bit more clearly. I expected to feel anger or pain, but when she buried her nose into the crook of my neck, I only felt…peace. A tidal wave of emotion rushed over me, and I couldn’t quite grasp most of what I was feeling, but it felt good. That fleeting moment of her skin on mine was otherworldly. I didn’t want her to let go. I was lost in her touch, wanting more to ease her pain and allow her to ease mine.

“What’ll we do about Rami?” Juniper asks in a low voice. I glance at her. Her left eye is swollen shut, and there’s a cut above her lip. Her hair sticks to her forehead, still sticky with sweat.

“Nothing we can do,” I mumble, and I can tell that answer doesn’t satisfy her, but she won’t argue. Not right now.

Rowan pulls up to the front of my house, and I ease Willow off my lap to get out of the car. I reach inside to pick her up and carry her into the house, and as I do, I feel my cousins’ eyes on me from behind. I bet they’re looking at each other now, wondering how the hell I’m allowing any of this—holding her, carrying her—but I don’t care.

“Della!” I shout, marching through the door.

Footsteps clamber around the corner, and Della rushes from the kitchen. “Yes, Mr. Harlow?”

“I need you to take care of her,” I order, marching past her to get up the stairs. “She’s been given a Rippie suppressant. I think there was too much in the drink. It’s been hours and she still hasn’t woken up.”

“Do you think it’s an overdose?”

Fuck. I hope not. An overdose is lethal. It’d paralyze her for years. “I’m not sure.” I place Willow on the bed of one of my guest rooms. She doesn’t make a sound. If her chest weren’t moving, I’d think she’d have stopped breathing. “Just do what you can.”

“Yes, sir.” Della goes straight to work, leaving the room to go to her chambers. I hear bottles clinking, the sound of Della getting all the items she needs, and as I study Willow’s motionless body on the bed, the guilt eats me alive. I shouldn’t have let her walk into that situation with Rami. I should’ve known he’d pull something as low as drugging a woman just to try to get his way. He was luring me there, not her, and he was ready to pull all the stops if it meant taking me down…even if that meant killing her.

The moment I saw her pants down and him on top of her, strangling her, something inside me snapped. My vision turned red, and the agreement I’d made with The Council years ago about not killing another monarch slipped my mind. I couldn’t let him kill her.

I’d fucked up by murdering Rami, and I’m going to hear about it soon, I’m sure of it, but if I hadn’t killed him, he would’ve killed her. I’d do it again if it meant saving her, which is highly unlike me, but I’ve come to realize there are a lot of things about Willow that I’d never do for anyone else. She’s just…different. That’s all I can say. She’s different and she’s grown on me.

Willow whimpers, and I take a step closer.

“Della!” I call.

She scurries into the room, cradling several vials in her arms.

“Her lips are turning blue.” My heart beats harder, faster. “Is that normal? What should we do? We can’t let her die—we have to get her back to her world—”

“Mr. Harlow, stop worrying!” Della drops all the vials on a desktop, and they clatter, some dropping onto the floor, but she doesn’t care as she turns to me, placing her hands on my shoulders. I feel her touch searing through my jacket and pull away. “I’ll take care of this. Now go.”

Della returns to her medicines, dumping some into a silver bowl and mixing them together. I step back, giving Willow one more look before leaving the room.

I shut the door and walk down the hallway, a tightness developing in my chest—one that I’m sure is connected to Willow. I work twice as hard to breathe and almost double over in the hallway, but I grip the corner of a nearby wall, collecting a few breaths.

Her pain is mine, and I won’t rest until I know she’s all right.