Page 11 of The Villain

I winced, feeling a sharp pang in my head and then a dull pain everywhere. I curled my fingers, expecting to feel that strong hand in mine, but instead, something soft folded into them. A sheet—I was on a bed.

My entire body ached like someone had beaten me with a bag of oranges. I hadn’t felt this sore since my roommate in college, Josie, dragged me to a CrossFit class my first semester.

Beep. Beep. Beep.A timer. Or alarm. Or monitor. But beyond it, there was a low rumble of voices. Close, but not close enough for my foggy brain to decipher what they were saying.

Where was I? Why was my brain so muddy?

I tried to think of the answer—it felt like Iknewthe answer, but what I wanted to know sat like the sun behind clouds. I could see the glow of the truth, feel the warmth and comfort of understanding, but I couldn’t clear the clouds away to get to it.

A heavy exhale pushed through my lips. I needed to see what was going on. Maybe that would clear away the fog.But forcing my eyes to open took effort and seemed to take minutes rather than the split of a second, my eyelids having a weight to them I’d never felt before. But even when they were open—or when I thought they were open—everything was still dark.

The darkness.

I sucked in a breath, dragging my hand to my face, my fingers colliding with fabric.There was a bandage wrapped around my head.

Why?

What happened to me?

Had I been kidnapped?

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Monitors. Men’s voices.Darkness.

My heart pounded so loudly, it chased away every othersound in the room. Everything except the rush of blood to my head, awareness and panic leaching through the sluggish calm I’d been feeling.

I whimpered, my throat feeling like it had forgotten how to make sound as my fingers fumbled for the edge of the bandage.I had to get it off. I had to see where—who?—

“Don’t,” a rough voice begged, but it was thewarm hand that gently pressed to mine that stopped me.

I knew those fingers. That touch. That voice.He was the calm harbor in my dark storm.

“You’re going to be okay,”he murmured in the darkness.“You’re safe. I’ll protect you,” hepromised through the shadows.

I turned, feeling his presence beside me. I couldn’t see him, but I could sense him. His closeness.

“What happened? Where am I?” My voice hardly sounded like my own as I let him pull my hand down from my head.

“Safe,” his rough voice replied, giving me another chance to absorb the fullness of its tenor. Deep and husky, as though sound could have a scar, the single word wrapped around me like a shield.

It wasn’t an answer I’d been expecting, but between that and the warm embrace of his fingers, I felt a wave of heaviness through my veins again.Safe.

“What happened?” I swallowed, resisting the urge to reach for my face, and instead focused on the large fingers wrapped around my hand.

They were long. Calloused. Strong, but knew their strength—knew the boundary between firm and painful.

“There was an accident. What do you remember?”

I opened my mouth and realized I didn’t have an answer.What did I remember?I remembered driving in my car. I remembered needing something, needing to get away from something, and then…nothing.Memories felt like a deck ofcards strewn all over the floor that he wanted me to pick up and put back in order, except they were all blank.

“I don’t…” My voice cracked. “I don’t know.”

My brow creased under the bandage. Trying to remember was even worse in the darkness. I couldn’t look around for clues. I couldn’t hold onto something recognizable. There was nothing—nothing except him. The man attached to the rough voice.

“It’s okay?—”

“Can I take the bandage off? Did something happen to my eyes?”

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