Page 13 of The Villain

“You’re not at a hospital, Ms. Holman. You’re at a safe house.”

“Safe house?”I didn’t know which shock was worse, hearing that I was temporarily blind or that I was at a safe house. “I don’t understand. I thought I was in a car accident…” I started to shake my head. A safe house inherently implied danger.“Who are you?”

He made a low sound. “You…what do you remember?”

I opened my mouth to answer, except nothing came out because…I couldn’t. I wasn’t only blind to the present, I was blind to the past, too.

“I was driving home, and that’s the last thing I recall. Did I crash into something—someone? Did someone hit me?” I couldn’t suck in air fast enough. “Why am I at a safe house? I don’t remember what happened after. I don’t know who you are. I can’t see?—”

“Athena, please,” he begged, and the way he said my name was like a speed bump to my spiraling anxiety and runaway train of thought, forcing it to slow down. “Just breathe.”

I tried to swallow through the tightness in my throat.Goodness, that voice…it was like hot coals under my body,warming me so unexpectedly—especially for a man I couldn’t see.

He released my hand, and heat rose in my cheeks, afraid my face had given away the effect his voice had on me.

“Ms. Holman, it’s very important for you and your brain to stay relaxed right now. Any stress could intensify the swelling and cause further damage,” the voice of the doctor said, and my head swiveled—pointlessly—in its direction. “I can give you something to relax you, if you want?—”

“No,” I croaked and gently shook my head and let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m already down a sense. I’d rather not dull the others.” I shivered. “What would help is the truth, please.”

As if everything they’d already explained wasn’t enough, I could sense there was more. Maybe because I couldn’t see. Maybe because everything was dark and uncertain, I could sense other things more acutely.

Like that the woodsy pine scent was coming from the man beside me. It wasn’t the smell of the room or the sheets—it was the scent of him. Earthy and rich and rough. I should ask his name—should’veasked his name—but it suddenly seemed an inconsequential question compared to?—

“You’re at a safe house because the accident…it wasn’t an accident, Athena,” the man at my side said.

My chest caved with the release of my breath, my ears starting to ring.“What do you mean, not an accident?”

I thought those kinds of things only happened in movies, but apparently, I was wrong.

He cleared his throat, but it didn’t affect the rough timbre of his voice. Nothing would. “Your car was running in your driveway. You walked out of your house to get back in it, and I called to you. Not even a second later, it exploded.”

“Exploded?” Oh, my god.“My car exploded. In my driveway…” Irepeated, everything feeling numb as well as dark.How could I not remember this?“Why? How? Was something wrong with my car?”

It was old, but I kept up to date with the inspections and maintenance. Even still, cars didn’t just blow up, except in movies?—

“Athena.”

His voice stilled me again, but it was the pause after that made my stomach drop. It wasn’t filled with facial expressions or nuanced movements; in my blindness, all the distractions were gone, leaving only the giant, cavernous space that spanned an extra second. A space that held a thousand sentiments—all of which he hesitated to tell me.

“What was wrong with your car was that there was a bomb attached to it,” he said finally, his voice impossibly lower.

A bomb.Goose bumps washed over my skin. “Someoneblew upmy car?” I barely got out the question, my throat impossibly tight.

“Another step closer, and it would’ve been more than just your car,” the doctor’s voice rumbled from the other side of the room.Another step closer…“You’re very lucky he got your attention when he did.”

My lips parted, and I hated the darkness the most in that moment, wishing I could see the man who’d saved me.

“You saved my life,” I breathed out, feeling tears well against the bandage over my eyes.

He responded with a low noise that sounded remarkably like a growl. Was he angry for saving me? Or angry I was now aware of what he’d done?

“I took you from the scene, got you medical attention, and then we brought you here for your safety.”

Who was we—who was he?

“So, you’re with law enforcement…”

“Someone tried to blow you up. You weren’t safe—aren’t safe, especially in your condition,” he said, and I heard him shift his weight. “That’s why you’re at a safe house.”

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