Page 81 of The Viper
Her breath hitched. “He—he was in my room. I heard the window?—”
“Shh. You’re safe.”
The words sounded like lies, but I needed to say them. Maybe for her. Maybe for me.
One of Noah’s brothers came forward, offering an arm.
He was massive—broad-shouldered, brown-haired, his beard trimmed close over a square jaw. The kind of man who looked like he could lift a car just to see what was underneath. His presence filled the doorway, quiet and immovable, radiating a steadiness that made the chaos in my chest slow just a fraction.
“Ma’am,” he said in a deep, even voice. “We’ll have the doctor meet you inside.”
Atlas Dane. I remembered his name from something Lucas had said—the leader of the Charleston Danes. The Commander. The one the others followed when things went bad.
I nodded, barely hearing him over the rush of my own heartbeat. My focus stayed on Hannah’s face—the purpling bruise under her eye, the scratch along her neck, the faint tremor in her hands.
“Did he touch you?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Atlas’s gaze flicked toward me, calm but alert, as if cataloging every detail, every risk. Then he gave a small nod to one of the men hovering near the steps. “Let’s get her inside.”
Something in his voice—low, certain, absolute—made me believe we really were safe, at least for the moment.
She shook her head, then winced. “No. I think he wanted to scare me. He—he said your name, Lexi. He said?—”
Her voice broke.
I pulled her closer, guiding her through the doors. Warm light spilled across the floor, a strange contrast to the chaos inside my chest.
“Let’s get you upstairs to my guest suite,” I said softly. “You need to lie down.”
“I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can.”
We moved slowly, step by step, up the sweeping staircase. Hannah leaned against me, her weight uneven. The doctor—someone Noah had called—was already waiting outside of my room. He murmured instructions in a calm voice as he examined my sister, the smell of antiseptic overtaking everything.
I stood by the window, arms wrapped around myself, trying to breathe.
Lucas should’ve been here.
He’d promised he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He’d said it with the kind of conviction that made me believe him. Butnow he was gone—out there somewhere, chasing the people who had done this—and everything felt colder without him.
When the doctor finally left, Hannah looked a little better. Her hair was pulled back, the cut on her lip cleaned. A thin blanket draped her shoulders. She sat propped against the pillows, pale but alert, her eyes following me as I crossed the room.
“Lexi,” she said quietly.
I sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m here.”
She reached for my hand, her fingers trembling. “He said your name.”
I swallowed hard. “Who did?”
“I don’t know. He was tall. Dressed in black. He said, ‘Tell your sister we’ll be in touch.’ And then he laughed.” Her eyes filled again, but she blinked the tears back. “Lexi, what’s happening?”
I didn’t have an answer. Not one that would make sense.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “But I promise you’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”
She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Safe? In a gated mansion with armed guards. Is this what it takes?”
