Page 92 of Bed of Thorns

I kept my eyes closed, pressing kisses against her skin, still trying to find the right words in a prayer that would matter.

That God would listen to.

“Mmm…” she murmured, her hand twitching in my hold.

I jerked my head up, taking scattered breaths. When she opened her eyes halfway, I could tell she was trying to focus.

“Hiya, baby. You’re okay. Everything is going to be just fine.”

Very slowly she turned her head, providing a slight, crooked smile. “Edmond. Where…”

“You’re in the hospital. You passed out.”

Mercedes wrinkled her nose, pulling her other arm from the cover. Then she started to fight, her actions driven by fear. “No. No!”

“Stop. Just rest.” As her vitals started to increase, her blood pressure skyrocketing, I had difficulty breathing. “Don’t fight. Please.”

“What happened? I…”

As I stood, leaning over, she reached for me, her eyes now wild with fear. I pressed my hand against her face, loathing the man I’d become. She didn’t deserve this. She was far too innocent, light in a sea of darkness. “Please just rest.”

She refused to cooperate, still fighting to throw back the covers. One of the monitors beeped and I knew the situation was becoming dire.

“We need to… leave. To get out,” she wailed.

Seconds later, the door burst open, a nurse rushing inside. “Mr. Montego. You need to leave.”

I snapped my head toward the nurse, hissing. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Listen to me. You need to allow Ms. Carver to get some rest.”

“No. I’m fine. I’m…” But as Mercedes thumped against the bed, the nurse pressed another button.

“Go. Just go!” the nurse barked.

I backed away, shaking as several other medical professionals rushed into the room, one of them pushing hard against me. “Please, baby. Just rest.” My words were lost as instructions were given, implements used.

Shaking, I moved outside the room, sliding against the wall, my heart thumping. This would end today. One way or the other. She would never have to go through something like this again.

So. Help. Me. God.

I lowered my head, trying to block out all the sounds. Time ticked by slowly, other medical professionals coming and going. Twenty minutes.

Thirty minutes.

Then a man approached, his expression grim. “Mr. Montego? I’m Dr. Falcon.”

“Yes. What’s going on? Is she going to be okay?”

“She’s stabilized, but there are a few things we need to discuss.”

As he led me down the hall, speaking slowly, trying to keep his voice devoid of any emotion, I shifted into another place of darkness, the need for retaliation building in momentum.

Only this time, it would be directed toward those responsible for years of horror.

And for ruining the innocent.

CHAPTER19

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