Page 29 of Rogue Mission
A tremor passes through me, my muscles unwinding after hours of contraction. The stinging is back in my throat. My eyes are a damned mess.
A beam of light slices across me as the door swings open. Beast zeroes in on me—not Rosalie, me.
He silently moves to me, grips my shoulder with force. “Brother, everything good?”
I’m nodding, but that’s it.
The nurse offers a small smile. “That’s the relief hitting him. It’s powerful. He’s going to need sleep soon.”
Scrubbing both hands over my face, I knock my hat off and finally, finally breathe. But quick on the heels of that breath is a flood of tears.
You’d think I’d be empty now.
“Hey, sunshine,” the nurse gently wakes Rosalie. “You’ve got company that would like to see you.”
Rosalie’s eyes immediately find me, as if she senses me. Or maybe she’s as magnetized to me as I am to her.
“You came!” she exclaims. “I wondered if I actually dreamed you.”
I choke for a few seconds. “Yes, of course. I’ll always come.”
But as I say this, I know she’s mine to save, but that’s it. Can't fuck up someone's life if I keep them at arm's length.
“She’s a little loopy,” the nurse laughs gently as she takes Rosalie’s temperature with a gun-looking thing. “She asked me to put on some dance music as soon as she got here.”
What the hell? How is she so damned resilient?
I’m humbled by the woman, and when I didn’t think I could be sliced any other way, I’m hollowed out even more.
Unclenching my fist, I reach for her hand, wrapping the delicate warmth in my cold palm.
“Don’t cry,” I say, words rough.
“These are happy tears. Thank you for saving me.”
The room sways as more pieces of me fall onto the floor around me.
She reaches for my face, her cool fingers brushing like feathers over my jaw.
Every cell in my body lights up, warming after being arctic since the moment the chopper took off with her inside.
“You okay?” she whispers. “You look rough.”
“No.” I swallow and look away, a deep quake rattling my chest, my gut, the column of my spine. “I’m not.”
I’ve already decided what I’m going to do to the men who set that trap. But I doubt even that will make me okay.
TWELVE
The doctor has cute cat-eye tortoiseshell glasses. As she pushes them up, there’s a slight smile on her lips.
“I promise, it’s safe for Ms. Baxter to go home. There’s nothing more to do here.” Crossing her arms, she glances at me.
Those words are meant for the overbearing beast who’s been resolutely opposed to my release from the hospital.
If a pin were to drop, it would split the silence like thunder.
I’m caught in the middle. Justice scowls at her from across my hospital bed, his face stony, his entire body primed for a fight.
