Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“Daddy?” Kitty panics, grasping his face in her hands.
“Get him some water,” Callan orders, seizing a remote clipped to the side of the bed and raising the mattress. Kitty holds a cup of water to her dad’s lips as I step toward the bed, a spectator making herself known.
“Do you want me to get the nurse?” I ask.
Wide, stunned eyes clash with mine. Knocking the cup from Kitty’s hand, water splashes against the bed and down Kitty’s legs. Jericho points to me, panic and shock twisting his features.
“Her,” he wheezes. Trying again, he chokes out, “It’s her.” He grips Callan’s arm, attempting to pull him closer to his mouth. “That’s her. She shot me.”
A gasp whips through my lips, my hand going to my chest. “What?” Callan, Kitty, and I ask in unison. Jericho’s brow crashes. His gaze racks over me. I move closer, standing beneath the light directly over his bed.
“She’s different but the same,” he croaks out.
“Harley.” I clutch a fistful of my sweater to stop my nails from creating moon shaped dents in my palms. “He’s talking about Harley.”
Dread spreads through me, its icy fingers engulfing me with fear.
“Who the fuck is Harley?” Jericho scans the room, his gaze bouncing between us all.
“Did you kill her?” I grit out, a haze washing over my vision. The room spins.
“Harley’s her sister,” Callan informs him.
Jericho takes a few deep breathes, a rattle wheezing from his chest with each exhale.
“Then who the hell is she?” The strain to talk is evident on his bright red face. He pauses, maneuvering himself against the mattress into a more upright position.
“Answer the question,” I demand, my tone harsh.
“She’s with Callan, Dad. She’s his ol’ lady.” Kitty turns to me. “Calm down, Rogue.”
How dare she tell me to calm down. Harley’s bruised neck and dead eyes assault me. A fresh wave of anger surges inside me.
“Since when do you have an ol’ lady?” He looks to Callan, a sneer slashed across his lips. “And why the hell is this bitch barking at me?”
“Dad, she’s with me.” Callan’s tone is deep, firm.
My legs tremble. Unable to hold myself up properly, I grip the bed for support, my head hanging between my arms. Why is the floor moving?
Wait—it’s not the floor.
It’s me.
I’m falling toward it.
“Rogue!” Callan’s voice distorts, wrapping around me as darkness creeps in until there’s nothing but black.
A bright light sears my vision. Cringing, I swat at the hand pushing my eyelids open. “There you are,” a woman’s soft, warm voice declares. I can sense the smile on her face from her tone. Once the spots clear from my eyes, I realize I’m lying on a hospital bed. Callan is by my side, an intense frown line creasing his brow.
“Did I faint?” Embarrassment heats my cheeks.
“You lost consciousness, yes. Can you tell me if you’ve eaten much today?” the nurse with the gentle voice asks. She’s an older woman, her silver hair pulled back into a bun. Laugh-lines crinkle her mouth and she has gray eyes.
“I can’t remember when I ate last,” I mutter, pushing the stark white sheet from my legs.
“This is my fault. I’ve pushed you too much,” Callan rumbles, clenching the metal bar on the side of my bed.
“Her blood sugar probably just dipped. We can run some tests to be sure, but it’s likely nothing to worry about,” the nurse says, trying to comfort him.
“I don’t want tests. I’ll just get a sandwich from the vending machine,” I say, pulling the heart monitor from my finger.
“I wouldn’t recommend the vending machine, but we do have a cafeteria on the third floor.”
“Rogue, let her do the tests,” Callan begs, his jaw clenched. It’s a waste of time. I just need some food.
“No.” Dread gnaws at me. “I need to know the rest of your dad’s version of events.”
“I can ask him,” Callan insists, struggling to pull the sheet back over me.
“No. I need to hear it directly,” I snap, smacking away his hands.
“Rogue.” He sighs in defeat.
“Callan, please.” I attempt to get down from the bed, but slump back as dizziness swarms through me.
Shit.
“You’re exhausted.” Leaning over, he shifts my body until I’m back in the middle of the bed.
“Let’s get you some fluids and food,” the nurse says, slipping the heart monitor back onto my finger. She writes something down on her chart. “I’ll be back soon,” she informs me before leaving the room.
“It looks like I’m resting for a couple minutes.” I exhale, laying my head against the pillow.
“You scared the shit out of me,” Callan says, his face ashen. I want to reach up and touch him, but my limbs feel like they weigh a hundred pounds each.
“That’s becoming my thing.” I snort, breathing in a deep breath. I close my eyes, silence settling over the room. Jericho’s words run marathons in my mind. Tyler was meeting him. Maybe he was setting Jericho up. But to what end?