Page 92 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“Oh,” I grumble.

Did I expect him to be here still so we could talk about what happened? Kind of.

Am I fucking disappointed he ran off again? Hell yes.

“You guys cleaned up fast,” I say, waving my hands around us.

“There’s one more piece of trash left,” Nat sighs, nodding toward a closed door leading to the basement. “I figured you could help us with this.”

Oh.

Right.

The rando.

I inhale deeply, suddenly feeling drained. But Nat and Oscar are my people, my chosen family, so I can never say no to them.

“What is it this time?” I grumble in defeat. I follow Nat down the stairs to find the rando strapped to a chair, still asleep from what I gave him. “What did he do to your dad?”

But Nat shakes her head, glancing at me quickly as Oscar greets us. I playfully stick my tongue out at him as a greeting back.

“Nothing, actually,” Nat says, closing the door behind us.

“He’s, uh,” Oscar looks hesitant for a second before clearing his throat. “He works for Senator Greene.”

My body goes rigid.

Fuck.

Rurik has consumed me so much that I've entirely overlooked his idiotic stepfather. That's not like me—I don't allow anyone, regardless of who they are, to divert me from my goals.

It's fucking unfortunate that Rurik is tied to that man, but I can't afford to let him distract me from pursuing what I need from the senator.

Chapter 15

Rurik

CRAZY MIGRAINE:

-Good morning xxx

-The x’s mean something sexual, btw. Not just 3 kisses ;P

“Alright, Rurik. We're going to perform an echocardiogram today,” the doctor announces as he walks into the room. I look up from my phone, not realizing he has entered.

“Sounds good,” I mumble, putting my phone beside me.

He walks over to the expensive-looking equipment and continues, “It allows us to get a detailed look at your heart using sound waves.”

“Cool,” I say, not knowing what else to say as I pull off my shirt and lay down on the examination table.

“First, I'll apply some gel to your chest to help the transducer make good contact and get clear images of your heart,” the doctor explains after he washes his hands and puts on gloves. "Then, I'll move the transducer over your chest to capture images of your heart. You might hear some beeping sounds from the machine as it works.”

“Okay,” I awkwardly say. “Thank you.”

The uncomfortable sensation of cold gel gliding across my chest makes me wince. I watch as he uses a small device to glide over my chest, and as he says, the sounds of beeping echo around the room.

I sigh, glancing at my mum, who sits beside me. When she catches my eye, she offers a forced smile that fails to reach her eyes.

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