Page 72 of Shattered Souls
I can’t stop the flood of memories: the feeling of his hands on me and his soft, caressing voice as he whispered in my ear.Good girl.A sob wrenches from my throat, and I claw at my skin. I’m shaking all over, my legs threatening to give out beneath me.
My vision blurs as tears fill my eyes, but I blink them away, refusing to let them fall. I won’t break down. Not here, not now. The fear is like a vise around my chest, tightening with every step. I need the guys. I need Logan’s safe embrace. Royce’s threatening stance. Even Grayson’s murderous rage. They’ll know what to do.
Except I can’t make my mind focus long enough to figure out where each of them is on campus right now. Is Grayson even on campus today? I can’t remember.
I round a corner, my steps faltering as I trip over a loose stone. My ankle twists painfully, but I barely register it. Pain is better than fear. Pain is something I can handle. But this... this overwhelming terror, not only for myself but for my daughter, is suffocating.
I’m trapped in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
I reach for my usual mantra to pull me back from the edge of hysteria. Except, it no longer works. I’mnotsafe. Heishere. Hecanhurt me.
Heishurting me.
“Riley!”
My gaze whips over my shoulder, slamming into dark hair and dark eyeschasingme. Eyes wide with terror, I scream. Dropping my backpack, I break into a full-out sprint.
“Riley!”
There’s an emotion in that one word that has an itch scratching at the back of my mind, but I’m too terror-stricken to register it. My name is called again, but this time, it is drowned out by the roar of an engine.
Unyielding bands of steel wrap around me. A scream rips from my throat, imagining it’s Bertram before the world tilts. The air is pushed from my lungs as I hit something hard. A blinding pain radiates across my skull before the world dims.
Like a dying flame, my panic slips into the darkness until everything ceases to exist.
20
GRAYSON
“What are you doing?” I demand, leaning over the paramedic’s shoulder as he flashes a light in Riley’s eyes. I pull at my hair, nausea twisting my insides into knots as I stare at her bleary-eyed form. She’s so pale. So fragile looking.
What the hell was she doing, running across campus like a bat out of hell?
I’ll never forget the look on her face when she saw me. The blind terror. The suffocating fear.
“Sir,” the paramedic huffs, glaring at me over his shoulder in a clearback-off.Scowling at him, I reluctantly step aside to give him room to move. Instead, I snatch up Riley’s limp hand as I watch him work. She gives my fingers a slight squeeze, and I drop my gaze to where she’s lying on the stretcher.
“Aurora,” she mumbles, slurring slightly. Her gaze is unfocused, her eyes drifting shut before she snaps them open, only for the weight to drag them back down again. She was unconscious for several terrifying seconds after we hit the ground. I’ll never unhear the sickening crack as her head bounced off the asphalt. Even now, a fresh shudder wracks my body.
Thankfully, she came around before the paramedics arrived, although she was groggy and out of it. Confused, and worst of all—completely fucking terrified, shoving at my shoulders and clawing at my face until I had to restrain her so she wouldn’t hurt herself any further.
“Shh,” I soothe, brushing a strand of hair out of her face as I lower my head to hers. “Focus on you right now.”
She gives a minute shake of her head before whimpering in pain.
“Don’t move,” I chastise, struggling and failing to keep the snarl out of my voice.
“Grayson!”
Recognizing Logan’s panicked voice, I look away from Riley for the first time since I caught her in my arms. Logan and Royce are both racing toward us, Logan in his practice gear. I’d messaged both of them once the paramedics arrived. Logan wouldn’t have had his phone during practice, so Royce must have gotten him on his way here.
“What the hell happened?” Royce demands, pausing at the back door of the ambulance. Logan has no such intentions as he barrels into the cramped space, practically shoving me out the door as he moves straight to Riley’s side.
Her eyes are once again closed, her face pinched.
“Shortcake,” he murmurs, his tone gentle even as anguish strains his face. He reaches out to touch her but hesitates, leveling a glare on the paramedic, who is thoroughly unimpressed with our presence. “What’s wrong with her?” he demands, channeling the Logan his rivals meet on the ice.
“She’s got a concussion,” the paramedic states succinctly as he bustles about. “I’m checking her vitals, and then we’ll take her to the hospital.” Leveling each of us with a long stare, he dictates, “I need all of you to step outside and give me room to work.”
