“I think you should go,” the henchman growled. “You’ve enjoyed our hospitality long enough.”
“He’s knocking on death’s door, Franco. We can’t just throw him out.” Mercer clucked his tongue. “Where’s your European welcome?”
“In the gutter the moment he punched you.”
The conversation twisted and turned until I no longer understood any of it. A spiral began in my head, a hypnotic circle—one I had to chase, growing dizzier and lighter the longer I tried to reach the spinning centre.
“Elder…” Pim’s sweet voice sank into my ears, joining me on the downward spin. “Do you want to go home?”
Home…
Yes. Hell, yes.
Where painkillers and weed waited. Where Pim could be naked and I could be strong again.
I liked that idea a lot. It granted enough energy to believe I could walk out of there unassisted—enough lunacy to threaten Frenchmen with guns.
Slurring my words, I said, “Come shnear us again and zhI’ll gut you.”
Mercer nodded, cradling his child. “I have no reason to come after you now I know the truth.”
“The truth I told you on the Phantom. The one you ignored and shot him anyway,” Pim snipped, linking her fingers with mine despite the slippery blood coating me.
“Respectfully, if you’ve been speaking to my wife, you’ll know why I couldn’t trust what you were saying,” Mercer replied in his thick accent.
Pim frowned. “I understand, but perhaps next time…you’ll listen harder.”
“Yes, Q. Listen.” Mercer’s wife piped up, siding with Pim. The two women smiled at each other as if they were on the same team and not on opposite ends of this war.
Mercer glanced as his wife, doing the same as me and trying to understand how our significant others had bonded while we’d done our best to exterminate each other.
And then, nothing else mattered as my heart gave in to the gush of fever, and my mind reached the centre of the swirling circle, and the spinning, spinning, spinning turned into a deep, endless black hole.
I was nothing but agony and fever, holes and hurting.
I tripped into unconscious and failed my woman for the second time.
Gone.
Nothing.
No One.
Chapter Ten
______________________________
Pimlico
SIX HOURS.
Tess convinced me to give Elder six hours of uninterrupted rest.
No washing blood from his skin.
No stripping his body of clothes.
No food or water.
Just rest.
She promised me sleep would do what nothing else could. That Elder was so close to depleting everything he had left, nothing else mattered to his system but remaining unconscious long enough to stitch together the pieces he’d shredded.
She’d used case studies of women who’d come into her care from Q’s vigilante hunts to convince me. Mentioning how some of them would sleep for weeks until they were mentally and physically ready to embark on the rest of their healing.
I knew from living with Alrik that sleeping had been the only thing he couldn’t take from me. Sure, he could deprive me and torture me, keeping me awake for days, but when I finally slipped into slumber…well, Tess was right.
There, I healed just enough to face the next day. My bruises faded just enough to climb out of bed. My soul bandaged enough not to use the curtain cord to hang myself.
Elder would rest safe and unmolested.
And I would be there for him to tend and take care of the instant he awoke.
Reluctantly, I’d followed the crowd from my borrowed room and looked one final time at Elder, bundled beneath the bed covers and passed out cold.
Our footsteps had been hushed as we descended the stairs to find staff members wiping away globs of blood smeared on the foyer’s floor.
A vase had shattered from someone barrelling into the side table. A framed picture had fallen from the wall and glass sprinkled like crystal dust everywhere.
In a daze, I’d accepted food—what, I couldn’t remember. In a fugue, I’d counted the clock above the fireplace.
With my heart turning worrywart and nursemaid, it’d winged upstairs to never leave Elder’s side even as I’d sat in the lounge and listened to the hushed French tones of Tess and Q’s conversation.
No doubt they discussed Elder’s condition, my circumstance, and how to get everyone home safely. There was no mention of kicking us out until Elder was able. Their hospitality after so much ill will made tears prick and nerves form.
Part of me wanted to go home—to return to the Phantom where Michaels could fix Elder and we could continue running from the Chinmoku. But the other part wanted to stay here where ancient castle walls were ten times thicker than any yacht and Elder could heal in the heart of it.
If he was here, the Chinmoku couldn’t find him.
If he was here, he could get better before he had to fight again.
If the Chinmoku find him before he’s healed…they’ll kill him.
I choked on a worried gasp, my eyes soaring to the clock again.
Five hours.
Elder had rested for five hours. Could a miracle have happened and broken bones and bullet holes no longer exist?