Page 101 of Knot Playing Fair 2

“Is Luca all right?” Nat’s voice still held a wet quaver. It tugged at me—I’d never seen him like this in all the time we’d been together.

“They won’t give me any details; I’m not family or a legal guardian.” I tapped the side of my thigh restlessly with my fingertips. “I’ll go talk to him and find out.”

Emiel nodded. “I’ll stay here for now. Don’t think Luca’s gonna want an alpha in his room for a bit.”

I winced, because he was probably right. God, what was this going to do to Luca’s already precarious mental health? I couldn’t even imagine the trauma he must be going through.

“Thank you,” I told Emiel. Impulsively, I got up and stepped close to him, stretching up and pulling him down to press a kissto his cheek. He straightened, lifting a hand to cover the spot with his palm.

Before things could get weird, I turned and did the same to Nat, brushing my lips against his temple on the uninjured side of his face.

“I’ll be back,” I told them both.

As I was leaving, I passed a white-coated female alpha with a stethoscope and a clipboard, who gave me a polite nod as she headed toward the door I’d just exited. I guessed she was the promised doctor, which was good. I might not be entitled to Luca’s medical information, but I was worried about Nat. He looked like he’d gone ten rounds with Emiel in a cage fight.

‘Byron picked the lock on the room where they were holding us, after they took Luca away,’ Nat had said. ‘We managed to take them by surprise and overpower them. I think they might be de—’

And then, he’d cut himself off, his face going even paler than it had been before, beneath his golden skin. I tried to picture what might have happened, my mind stuttering over the image of Byron and Nat fighting against gang members. I’d never known Nat to raise a hand toanyone, while Byron gave every indication of hating physical violence with the understandable passion of someone who’d been shot once and nearly died from it.

Shaking myself free of the disturbing thoughts, I took a moment to get my bearings and headed for the room number the duty nurse had given me for Luca. Not at all sure what I’d find, I knocked lightly on the door with my heart in my throat.

“Yes?” called a light, female voice from inside.

I poked my head inside cautiously. “Hi... I’m here to see Luca Doyle? I’m one of his roommates.” It was such an inadequate descriptor... but Luca and I had never talked about how toclassify our complicated relationship—much less whether he was comfortable admitting to it publicly.

The nurse—a female omega—looked at Luca with concern. He was staring out the room’s large window, not moving, and he hadn’t acknowledged my presence at all. His left arm was in a sling, but I couldn’t see any other visible injuries from my vantage point in the doorway.

Thank goodness they’d at least assigned him an omega nurse.

“I’m not certain he’s up to visitors right now,” the nurse said, shooting me a look of sympathy before returning her full attention to the slight figure on the bed.

“Mr. Doyle?” she asked. “Someone’s here to see you. One of your roommates?”

“Mia,” I said, my voice thick.

Luca’s head turned, his eyes fixing on me as though from a great distance. He looked painfully young.

“Mia?” he whispered.

“It’s me, I’m here,” I said unsteadily. “Can I come in?”

There was a slight pause, and then he nodded wordlessly.

I slipped inside, coming to a stop a few feet away from the bed; not sure if he’d wantanyonein his personal space, even me.

“Luca, did they inject you?” I asked urgently.

He shook his head no.

My gaze flew to the nurse. She smiled, although it looked a little forced. “I can confirm that his blood panel came back normal. Believe me, he wouldn’t be in a regular patient room like this if it hadn’t.”

The breath whooshed out of me in a relieved gust, and I sagged. “Oh, thank god.” Practicalities jangled at me, disjointed and slow in the wake of my own exhaustion and worry.

“Luca, the police are going to show up at some point to interview you. I want you to have a victim advocate presentwhen they do.” I looked to the nurse again. “Is that something the hospital can facilitate?”

She nodded, growing businesslike. “It definitely is. Mr. Doyle, do you agree to that? I’ll need the request to come from you directly before I pass it on.”

“Yes,” he whispered, looking at his lap.

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