Page 141 of Ravaged Soul
“I’m right here.” I clench her quaking fingers.
“You saved me… then everything went dark.”
Unease settles over me. “Is she okay?”
“And who might you be?” The female doctor demands.
“I’m her emergency contact.” Warner cuts the medic a harsh look. “Your team called us in.”
“Not to barge in here all at once, I’m sure.”
“You know who we are, so spare us the lecture. An update will do.”
The doctor sighs tiredly. “Ember’s taken a bit of a beating, but nothing too serious. She was struck in the head and rendered unconscious. It’s created some lingering confusion.”
“A concussion?” Madden asks.
“Mild, thankfully. I’m sure her regular physician will want to do some scans, given her pre-existing condition to ensure there’s no exacerbation of her symptoms.”
We exchange worried looks. Ember’s in no state to be managing a head injury. Not when she’s already adjusting to life with a long-term condition and trying to find a treatment plan that works for her PTE.
“What about Hyland Wesson?” Warner straightens up.
“Mr Wesson was taken for a CT scan after his head wound was stitched. He briefly regained consciousness upon arrival, but we’re concerned about swelling.”
Shit, he’s lucky to even be alive. From the little information we have, Hyland was the one driving Sabre’s SUV. The same one now burnt to a husk in some East London suburb after being rammed.
“What happened?” I mostly ask myself.
“Bounty,” Ember gasps, her gaze still clouded. “Someone wanted to collect.”
“Not Gael?” Warner questions.
She licks her split lip then cringes. “No. Hit and run. He tried to k-kill me, but… Axel…”
“Yeah, babe?” I perk up.
Staring at her, Ember continues to frown right back at me. If anyone’s left alive after that wreck, I’ll kill them myself. I hate seeing her all muddled like this.
“Axel saved me,” she finishes hoarsely.
Warner crouches to meet her eyes. “Axel was with us at HQ when we got the call. You went jogging with Hyland this morning.”
Blood-caked eyebrows furrowed in a perplexed look, she doesn’t seem to comprehend Warner’s words. Her groggy attention remains fixed on me.
“What h-happened to your tattoos?” she croaks.
“What do you mean?” I suck in a breath.
“Your hair… the same… the tattoos. They vanished. Where were you?”
“She isn’t making any sense.” Warner drags a hand over his paling face. “We need to call her specialist in ASAP. Get his medical opinion.”
“I can make the call,” the doctor offers.
“Please. It’s Doctor Fawn at St Thomas’s in Westminster.”
“You hit me,” Ember mumbles in a rush.
