Page 28 of The Goblin in the Sink Drain
I had watched Dad tear through innocents to reach his targets or order his people to do so on his behalf. His view on shifter society was survival of the fittest. I had seen enough of that same bloody mindset echoed in the people who allied with him to believe the same was true all over.
That was why, even at my lowest, my most desperate, I never considered running away to another pack. I hadn’t expected life to be any better there. Humans were the sanctuary I imagined, getting lost in a sea of them in a city where no one had ever heard the name Sartori. I would have dived in, eventually.
But then I was given the deed to the house in Brentwood, and life suddenly didn’t seem quite so claustrophobic.
I had been such a fool to ever trust the fantasy Dad—Carmichael—spun for me about my mother, my aunt. All of it had been a desperate dream for a desperate girl.
“I’m going to put you out for a few minutes, okay?” He searched my face, his kind and gentle. “You don’t need to be awake for this part.”
Glad for the reprieve, when darkness swept over me, I embraced it with both arms.
“Lesh me shee her.”
“Ana.”
“Lesh me…”
A jumble of slurred words dragged me up from the depths where I had been resting, and I woke to find a very drugged Sloane crawling on her stomach on the floor toward me like a roach who had been hit one too many times with a shoe. Her hospital gown had come untied, leaving her rear end on full display, and her limbs were oddly twitchy.
“I’m dreaming,” I decided, my arm still tingling from its healing.
“Ana.” Sloane lit up when she saw my eyes were open. “You’re nosh dead.”
Not until Liam stormed into the room with the promise of vengeance burning in his eyes did I believe what I was seeing. As soon as it clicked this was real, this was happening, I threw the cover off my legs and swung them over the side of the bed.
“What are you—?” Liam took one step toward me. “Sit down, Ana, before you hurt yourself.”
I wobbled on my feet, pitched forward, and landed on my shoulder about a foot away from Sloane.
“Ouch.” I left my cheek mashed to the floor. “How’re you here?”
“Ran.” She reached for my hand, barely making it, and meshed our fingers. “Away.”
“Rían is going to kill me.” Liam smacked his palm against a button on the wall, and a siren blared through the room. “What is wrong with you two?”
“Besh friend mosh pish.”
Bright eyes glassy from the high of her pain meds, she began flopping like a dying fish. Maybe she was doing the worm? I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t have the energy to join. I lifted a hand and managed a few finger pumps, since fist pumps weren’t going to happen, but even that drained me.
“Ana.”
With my face planted on the tile, I watched Rían run to me horizontally and kneel at my hip. “Legs.”
“Yes, we’ve established I have long legs.” He smoothed his hands over me, searching for injuries. “What were you thinking?” He pivoted toward Sloane then stared at his cousin, who was two-fisting his hair and ripping like he meant to tear it out by the roots. “How did she escape ICU?”
“Damned if I know.” Liam growled, spun, and punched a hole in the wall. “I took a piss, came back, and she was gone.”
“Hey,” Rían barked, jabbing a finger at the mess. “You broke it, you fix it.”
“I thought—” He shook plaster off his hand. “I don’t know what I thought. That Sartori had come for Ana and taken Sloane as leverage.”
“Bush ish cold.”
The guys whipped their heads toward Sloane, whose teeth were chattering.
“Yourwhatis cold?” Liam flushed dark purple. “You mean your…?”
“Butt.” I noticed I was drooling, that it had stuck my skin to the tiles. “She’s having trouble with t’s and s’s.”
