Page 110 of Vengeful Guard

My da’s smiling at me, holding a cheesecake slice up for me.

I smile back and reach out.

My arm is yanked back, pulling me toward the exit.

My da’s still smiling, but his chest is getting redder and redder.

Is he bleeding?

A hand grabs my hair and pulls, hard, tugging me as I kick and scream on the floor.

Gunshots are everywhere, making my ears ring.

Everything around me is in slow motion.

I keep kicking and yelling, but I can’t seem to get away.

It’s like I’m moving through glue or molasses, and then another gunshot rings out, louder than the rest, and I’m standing in front of my father’s body laying out on the floor in a pool of blood.

I scream and kneel down, putting my face next to his to try and feel his breath.

There’s nothing.

He’s gone, bled out on the restaurant floor.

I place my face on his chest, crying, but my hair is yanked back and someone’s taking me again, dragging me while I scream out for my father.

I wake up with a start, and Kael has once again, stolen all the covers. I’m surprised he didn’t sneak back to his own room after what happened last night.

I’d just needed to be with him, needed to feel real, needed to feel alive.

I’ve been in a fog ever since that night at Natalia’s, and I'm grateful to Kael for making me feel better. Or feel anything at all other than sheer misery.

But that’s all it is, right? Him making me feel better? He wants my body, sure, but like Lara said, I’m not in love. He certainly isn’t, despite the way he looked at me last night, the way he kissed me, the way he said my name so reverently.

I can’t start thinking that Kael may have feelings for me. That’s insane. And besides, I definitely don’t have feelings for him.

I don’t, other than lust. Right?

I get up and cinch on a robe, closing the door behind me so no one sees Kael in my bed.

I creep downstairs, and it’s crazy early in the morning, but I have the number to Da’s ICU nurse, Becca, who told me I can call at any time.

I pull my phone out of my robe pocket and call her.

“Becca with All Saints, how can I help you?”

“I was calling to check on my father? Room four-oh-three, James Smith.”

“Are you Paige or Lara?”

I smile. “Paige.”

“Nice to talk to you, Paige. I have to be honest, there’s no real change. He’s still on the ventilator, and the doctor hasn’t been by yet to talk about the next steps.”

“Thank you, Becca.”

“Anytime.”

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