Page 99 of Whispers of You
Wren. Too pale. Blood everywhere.
The sickly slow beat of her pulse fluttering beneath my fingertips.
I slammed my fist into the steering wheel, trying to shake the memories free.
“She’s fine.” I said the two words over and over, a mantra and a prayer. I said them more times than I could count in the five minutes it took me to get to the station—less than half the time it should’ve taken.
I screeched to a halt in front of the building and threw my vehicle into park. Jumping out, I ran for the door. The officer behind the front desk pushed a button, making the door buzz before I could reach it. It flew open, and I charged inside. “Where is she?”
“They’ve got her in the gym,” Abel called from dispatch.
There was none of his telltale grumpiness in his expression, only concern.
My ribs tightened around my lungs, making it hard to take a full breath, but I forced myself down the hall toward the gym. The door was open, and as I stepped through, I saw a cluster of people huddled around a massage table.
A woman who looked to be in her fifties was bent over, holding a small penlight.
My legs carried me toward the group, but it was as if I were on autopilot. Everything in me had gone numb.
Clint took one look at me and stepped back, clearing the way.
Wren lay on the table, an ice pack pressed to her head. It wasn’t until I saw her chest rise and fall that I took a full breath. But as soon as I did, rage filled my lungs.
Wren shifted as she saw me, the ice pack slipping. The side of her face was already turning black and blue. Angry scrapes stood out against her smooth skin, and blood seeped through her long-sleeved white blouse.
Blood.
Wren was bleeding.
In a flash, she stood and moved to me. The ice pack fell to the floor as she grabbed my hands. “I’m fine. A little banged up. That’s all.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. All I could do was stare at the blood staining her T-shirt.
“Tell him I’m fine, doc.”
“Wren will be perfectly all right,” the doctor said.
“You’re bleeding.” The words were raw, as though they were wrapped in barbed wire, and someone had ripped them from my throat.
Lawson cursed. “She scraped her arm when she fell. It’s nothing serious.”
My head snapped in his direction. “Someone. Attacked. Wren. Outside your damned police station. How is that not serious?” I growled.
Lawson winced. “Bad choice of words.”
Wren looked up, wariness seeping into her expression for the first time. “I’m okay. I took a knock on the head. I’ll look rough for a couple of days. That’s it.”
“You promised me.”
Her brows furrowed.
“You promised me you wouldn’t go anywhere alone.”
How could I believe anything she told me? How could I trust her to keep herself safe?
Wren stared at me. “I stepped out our back door in an extremely lit police station parking lot because I needed a second to breathe. There were people right inside.”
“He got to you!”
