Page 80 of Judge's Mercy

“Bones took a look and said it’ll heal. It’ll just take some time.”

“After that, I passed out, and when I woke up, it was dark. So fuckin’ dark.” My voice cracks, remembering how terrified I was. “I didn’t have any clothes on, and it was so cold. I was lying in a pool of blood from my shoulder, but I didn’t know how bad the wound was because I couldn’t see shit.”

“Jesus.” Judge rolls onto his back, his eyes cast up at the ceiling and his hand digging into his chest. “Myla, I?—”

“There’s more.”

“I know this isn’t about me, but sweetheart, I don’t know how much I can take. Fuck. I wish we would’ve found you sooner. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.” He rolls back onto his side, propping his head up with a hand. The pain I see in his eyes nearly breaks me, and to know I caused it only makes it worse. When my lower lip quivers, he rests a hand on the back of my neck and softly skims his thumb over my cheek. “What happened after that?”

He scoots closer and moves his hand down to my hip, holding me there like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. Wrinkles form between his brow, and I hate that I’ve made him this upset. Until now, he wasn’t part of the equation while I was checking off my list. I wanted to be selfish and do what I wanted, middle fingers in the air to anyone who tried to stop me, but now, I realize that my choices have had a domino effect, no matter how much I didn’t want them to.

I explain the rest, sifting through patchy memories up until David had me in that room. “After that, it’s all kind of a blur. I think he drugged me because I vaguely remember a prick at my neck.”

“We think it was ketamine and that he gave you too much, making you hallucinate.”

“Hallucinations?” I ask, disbelieving. The throbbing in my head is getting worse, but I have to know more, even though it’s hard to believe. Wouldn’t I have a memory of it?

“You were running out the door when I was coming in to save you. You were naked, and the look on your face. . . I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like you were there but not really there. You were frantic and screaming about demons.”

I try harder to remember, which only makes my headache worse, but there’s not even a whisper of a memory. Chills run up my spine thinking about what could’ve happened while I was out of my mind. I’m already feeling violated, but—if I think too much about that, I’ll spiral, and I’ve had enough today.

“I don’t remember any of that.”

“If it’s any consolation, I think you broke the nose of one of them.”

“Really?”

“Even high as a kite, you’re a badass.”

“How did you find me?” Rolling onto my back, I dig my thumbs into my eyeballs. It feels as though they’re both in a vice, and the pressure-pain keeps growing with each passing minute.

“Migraine?”

“Yeah. It’s really bad.” It’s been weeks since I’ve had a migraine. Once the concussion cleared, they went away, just like Bones said they would. I guess getting tossed down a flight of stairs has me starting from scratch.

“Hold on.” The pressure on the mattress changes, and the water in the bathroom turns on. Seconds later, there’s a pop of a medicine bottle opening before the shake of some pills. “Open.” He crawls back onto the bed and places two pills on my tongue. “Turn your head to the side; there’s a straw so you don’t have to sit up.” Once I’ve taken the pills, he places a cold, damp washcloth over my forehead and eyes. It feels fucking heavenly.

“Thank you.” Wanting to know all of it, I fight through the pain and ask again, “How did you find me?”

“After Satyr narrowed that list of yours down to two names, I was pretty sure I knew where you were. Cy assembled a team to go get you, but I had a bad feeling about it. Assholes like that who have everything to lose if someone finds out about their sins are unpredictable. I couldn’t risk him seeing a cavalry of bikers, knowing he was surrounded, and taking you hostage. So, I sent them to the house of the guy I didn’t think you chose yet, and I went to the other alone.” His arm drapes over my middle. “This okay?”

“Yeah.” I rub a hand up and down his arm, needing to make sure this is real and not part of the hallucination. “Cy’s gotta be pissed.”

“He is, and I should care, but?—”

“You don’t.”

“No. I don’t.” He sighs.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s more pissed at me, so at least you have someone on your team.”

“I don’t think he’s mad at you. He’s concerned that you’d take such a big risk alone, but honestly, I think he’s proud of you. You know that we go on rides to raise money for kids and teens who are at risk for that kind of shit, and we’ve heard some pretty sad stories working so close with the charities. But they’re still bikers, so killing the threat to kids and teens is more their speed than parading from town to town, asking for donations.”

“You switched from ‘we’ to ‘them.’” The light-headed feeling of the narcotics begins to replace the pain, thank fuck.

“What do you mean?”

“When you talked about raising money, you were a ‘we’ with the club, but when you spoke about taking out the source of the problem, you switched to ‘them,’ like you aren’t part of the club when they do those things.”

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