Page 179 of Oathbreaker

The smiley nurse pats my hand. “We know about the pregnancy. You were pretty amped up when you got here, and we were afraid you were going to harm yourself with how your panic attack took over. Do you not remember?”

I search for any recollection of the events the nurse talks about, but I come up with a big blank box of nothing.

“The medicine we gave you is short-acting, and the doctor will be in shortly. Just try to stay calm.”

I take in a deep breath, and my shoulder throbs. “You didn’t answer my question.” I force my eyes open, staring at the nurse holding my hand.

“August is fine,” she replies. When she smiles again, my paranoia increases.

Breathe, Winter.

I close my eyes against the spiral of panic, but behind my lids, all I see is blood.

So much fucking blood.

I shot Blair just before Hunter came into the hangar, and the agony of August squeezing me as I lay on the ground made me want to scream.

I knew my gunshot wound wasn’t anything fatal when it happened, but getting shot hurts like a motherfucker.

“Where is Hunter?” I mutter. The masked nurse finally walks away from me, heading to a wall of medical supplies.

“He will be here in just a moment,” the remaining nurse says. She flicks her eyes above my head, and when I follow her gaze, my vitals appear on the most teched-out hospital monitor I’ve ever seen.

Everything feels so unreal, and I’m uncertain if the source of my discombobulation stems from my anxiety or the medicine they shot me up with. I’m here in a medical bay in the home of a Ukrainian mob boss, as if that’s normal.

What the actual fuck is happening?

Where is Hunter?

My gaze travels around the room and then to my IV site.

I look at the clock on the wall. Two hours. Why don’t I have any recollection of the last two hours?

They explained that to you.

Am I really safe?

Can I trust these people?

Is this…are they going to hurt me? Us?

The sudden thought that Hunter and August are in trouble—hurt or dead—and I’m next snaps into my brain.

Just as sudden as the thought comes on, the rise of panic batters the door of my subconscious, fighting against what feels like benzos running heavily in my system.

I reach for the IV and rip it from my elbow.

“Winter!”

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, I wad the twisted bedding against my bleeding arm.

I try to place my weight on my leg, and my knee buckles. I catch myself with my good hand, falling back on the bed.

“Girl, if you don’t sit your ass down!”

Veronica stands in the doorway with Kitty at her side and Summer strapped to her chest in a soft structured carrier.

Just as I make sense of her appearance, another figure materializes.

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