Page 49 of Truth or Lie

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Kam had been rightthat the doctors would hold him overnight for observation. I had no idea what strings Beckett and Nikolayev had pulled—or what threats they’d delivered—but he ended up in a private room despite the heavy onslaught of patients in the wake of the attack. More importantly, no one came to kick the rest of us out when visiting hours ended.

There was a television inside the room, but I’d declared a moratorium on any news reports until morning. If something needed doing on that front tonight, it would have to fall to Nikolayev. Beckett had headed out after ensuring that we were settled for the night, leaving the five of us alone except for the regular check-ins from the nursing staff.

Kam had been taken off the IV drip, but was still hooked up to several monitors. A harried doctor had come in at one point to look at Kam’s chart, scribble something on it, and inform us that if he continued to improve, he’d be released the following day.

The room only had two chairs for the four of us, but given how overwhelmed the hospital staff must be, no one wanted to make a fuss about it. There were extra blankets, at least, so Jax and Flynn had camped out on the floor.

Alex’s mental presence in the bond evened out somewhat as the hours passed, but she was still mostly monosyllabic. She held Kam’s hand in hers like it was made of glass, and none of us had tried to push her into talking. I desperately needed a good cry, but somehow this didn’t feel like the time for it. The surroundings were too impersonal, and the others were too far away, sitting on the uncomfortable floor.

Flynn was worrying me the most right now. In fact, he was worrying me badly enough that I wasn’t willing to let it slide any longer.

“Flynn, will you talk to us, please?” I asked, sending a nudge of concern along the bond. “We’re all okay now—or we will be soon, at least. It’s worrying me that you don’t seem more relieved about that.”

“I’m relieved,” he said. “Not sure I’ve been this relieved since we got you back from the Montreal police, Sweet Thing. You don’t need to worry about me.”

I tried to find a new angle of attack, not buying it for a second. But before I could, Alex spoke up.

“He’s beating himself up for not having charged into the gas cloud after Kam and Irina,” she said.

My gaze jerked back to Flynn, appalled at the idea that he’d blame himself for that. It would have been suicide.

“Is that true?” Kam asked.

Flynn, who was propped against the wall near the door, shrugged one broad shoulder. “You know how it is. We’re supposed to go after the ones who are in trouble. That’s the deal.”

“If you’d tried to come after me, you’d be downstairs in the morgue right now,” Kam said. “I’d still be alive, and then I’d have to live with the knowledge that you threw your life away for me.”

Flynn met his eyes, his expression narrowing. “Think I wouldn’t die for you, Ginger Tea? Or for anyone else in this room? I would, you know. Hell, I’d do it with a smile on my face.”

And what on earth were you supposed to say to something like that?

Alex shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “If you hadn’t helped the others drag me out of the auditorium, I might have charged into that gas after them.”

“I know,” Flynn said. “That’s what Irina told me to get me to turn around.”

Jax, seated next to Flynn on the floor, drew in a deep breath. “I think... in many ways it’s hardwired into us, as alphas, that dying is somehow noble, even if it’s a pointless death. I’ve been in that place before—thinking that there was nothing I could do to protect the omegas in my care, so I might as well do something stupid and violent that would result in me getting killed. As though, by acting recklessly, I could at least ensure that no one would look back and wonder why I didn’t do more.”

With a pang, I remembered a terrorist cell... an impossible situation. “I told you in Romania that you wouldn’t help any of us by getting yourself killed.”

“You did,” Jax agreed. “And even if I knew it was true, objectively... I still didn’t really believe it.”

“I wouldn’t want your death on my conscience, Flynn,” Kam said. “Not ever. But even if I’d died in that gas, I would have wanted you to stay alive so you could help comfort the others while all of you grieved me. Not to die trying to save me.”

“I’m supposed to protect you,” Flynn said miserably.

“Sure, when you can,” Kam agreed. “But sometimes you can’t. If you can’t, then like I said—I’d want you alive to be with the others, because you’re more than just a glorified bodyguard. You’re our mate.”

Flynn’s face twisted. He covered it before I could see the tears, but I knew they were there. Something in the tenor of his thoughts made me think he wouldn’t be able to handle it if we all went to comfort him right now. I wanted to go to him anyway, but Alex gave me a small shake of the head. Instead, I watched as Jax scooted closer and slung an arm across his bowed shoulders.

“For what it’s worth, asshole... I promise not to give you a hard time if you ever get killed doing stupid alpha shit,” he said. “I get it.”

“Fuck off,” Flynn told him—but he didn’t move out from beneath Jax’s companionable, one-armed embrace.

The room fell quiet, but it was a comfortable sort of quiet. Exhausted, I leaned forward and laid my head on crossed arms at the edge of Kam’s bed, trying not to worry about what tomorrow would bring.

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