Page 13 of Burn Like An Angel

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You should calm down.”

“I will when you tell me where Ripley is!”

“She’s in the bed next to yours,” Raine supplies wearily. “Don’t be a dick, Xan. Show him.”

Relinquishing, Xander shifts to show me the view. The other hospital bed is lit by some kind of emergency flashlight resting on its side on the trolley between us.

Deathly pale and hooked up to an IV, Ripley is huddled on her side, unconscious. Her hands are curled up to her chest. Inher sleep, she looks like a vulnerable waif, not the ballbuster I’ve always loathed.

The panic barrelling through my nervous system eases the slightest amount. Thank fuck I don’t have the mental capacity to analyse that feeling too deeply right now. Or contemplate why I’m feeling it for her.

“Something to share?” Xander asks slyly.

With a huff, I sink deeper into the pillows. “Fuck off.”

“You seem awfully concerned.”

Ignoring him, I take stock of my body. Everything feels disjointed, like my limbs have been severed and reattached with makeshift stitches. The pain is a fierce, constant burn, despite whatever drugs I’ve been shot full of.

“Let me past, Xander. I need to check on him.”

Langley is in rough shape. His dark hair stands up in all directions, face streaked with blood and dirt, like he got rugby tackled and punched to shit. It’s a pleasing mental image.

I eye him warily. “Don’t touch me.”

“Easy,” he placates with a frown.

Raine lightly squeezes my arm. “Don’t be an ass, Nox.”

“He’s a goddamn guard!”

“Not strictly true.” Langley fiddles with the IV line trickling into my body. “And in lieu of an actual doctor, I’m your best shot right now. I’ve had medical training.”

“What training?” I stare at him.

Slender arms folded, Xander flicks his gaze back to the dickhead, a grimace twisting his thin lips. His platinum blonde hair is also a mess—shoved back, peppered with blood. In fact, he’s covered head to toe.

“Care to elaborate?” Xander asks icily. “We’ve been patient.”

Satisfied by his inspection of the IV, Langley turns his attention to me. “Just trust that I know what I’m doing right now.”

I bite back a sarcastic response, letting the man go to work checking me over. As my limbs wake up, there’s far too much pain wracking my body to protest any further.

“You’re lucky that was a flesh wound.” Langley nods towards the bandaged club resting across my chest where my left hand should be. “I can’t be certain without an x-ray, though.”

Looking down at the thick swathes of cotton, I internally wince at the memory of the drill digging into my hand, parting my flesh like butter. The entire limb feels completely numb, causing worry to flare up.

“Anaesthetic.” Langley seems to read my concern. “I flushed the wound with saline and stitched you up. It’ll hurt like a motherfucker soon enough.”

“Can’t wait,” I drawl.

“Someone beat the shit out of you,” he observes. “I can’t rule out internal bleeding, but that’s above my pay grade. You want to fill us in on what made that mess?”

He gestures to my bandaged club.

“Drill,” I supply.

“A… drill? Like a fucking power tool?”

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