Page 48 of Bound By Thorns

He sighed, meeting my gaze with a resigned look. “She’s scheduled for a medical procedure. That’s all I can say.”

“Where?” My voice was a harsh whisper.

He shrugged, noncommittal, and I stormed out, the name New York Metropolitan Hospital ringing in my mind as my next destination. I knew she had been admitted there after her gunshot wound. That hospital was my best bet.

I borrowed a car from the massive fleet, betting they wouldn’t notice one missing temporarily, and drove straight to the New York Metropolitan Hospital. My steps were hurried as I entered through the main doors and headed straight to the reception to ask for the surgery wing—instinct told me that was where I’d find Kaylan.

At the surgery wing’s reception, I waited impatiently for my turn. When I finally reached the front, I blurted out, “I’m here for Kaylan Bennett.”

The receptionist raised an eyebrow, her gaze shifting between me and her computer screen. “Are you the emergency contact?”

Without hesitating, I lied, a shot in the dark, “Yes, my name’s Sebastian.”

She nodded, seemingly satisfied, and directed me to the post-op ICU where Kaylan would be transferred within the hour.

I paced the ICU waiting area, my anxiety visible in the rhythmic tapping of my foot. When they finally wheeled Kaylan in a gurney, my heart sank. She looked pale, intubated, a shadow of herself. I felt a surge of protectiveness, remembering how she had once given me her warmth.

When the surgical team appeared, I approached them quickly. “Hi, I’m here with Kaylan,” I introduced myself confidently, “Sebastian Blackthorn. Can I get an update?”

“Hello, Mr. Blackthorn, I’m Dr. Sander,” a doctor greeted, motioning towards a private room. “Would you like to step into this room? It’s better to discuss in private.”

I followed her into a room furnished with two couches facing each other, a small table in between. Once seated, the doctor, her kind face now unmasked, began, “The surgery went as expected. We were able to save one of the fallopian tubes and one ovary, so we didn’t proceed with the subtotal hysterectomy initially planned.”

I nodded, barely processing her words, my mind racing with heavier questions. “Could you explain why this surgery was necessary?” I asked tentatively.

The doctor’s eyes narrowed slightly, possibly catching on to my cover, but she continued, “Given the extent of internal lacerations and an infection likely from previously used non-sterile equipment, the surgery was crucial. She’s been on antibiotics and painkillers for severe abdominal pain, but this procedure was inevitable.”

The weight of her words bore down on me, and I braced for more, the tightness in my chest growing.

“Mr. Blackthorn…Sebastian,” she began again, her tone softening, “may I call you Sebastian?”

I nodded absentmindedly, overwhelmed by the pieces falling into place in my mind.

Severe abdominal pain.

She was in pain, and it was my fault. My untamed impatience got the better of me that night. I had failed to understand her, to be there for her.Ihad fucking hurt her.

The doctor continued, “Kaylan suffered an immense amount of trauma to her abdomen—”

No.

“—and with two incorrectly aborted pregnancies—”

No, fucking NO!

“—she had no other choice. And as with anyone who is a victim of—”

Don’t say it.

Please, don’t say it.

“—sexual assault, she’d need more than just this surgery. I have recommended therapy. But, she’s been…”

Her voice grew distant. Too muffled for my brain to comprehend. The floor seemed to drop from under me as I absorbed her words, each one delivering a sharp jolt of pain.

Forget the tightness in my chest, it felt as though someone had clawed my chest open and left me to bleed out.

I willed her to stop—to halt the collapse of my world—but no words would form on my lips.

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