Page 181 of Oathbreaker

“Do you know what’s happening with August?” I ask Veronica once Luna is out of the room.

“Everything is okay, Winter. August is resting in one of the guest rooms. You, on the other hand, need to lie down. In case you haven’t realized, you’ve been shot.”

I want to roll my eyes at her, but I’m too dizzy to perform the action.

Note to self: Don’t get shot. Again.

Veronica strides over to me. She puts a soft but firm hand on each of my forearms and positions me back on the bed. When she lifts one of my legs and then the other without permission, putting a firm hand on the back of Summer’s head as she does so, and slides the blanket over me, the feeling of gratitude for not being upright marginally blurs my fear and uncertainty at the motivations of the people surrounding me.

Summer, the most amazing baby on the planet, sleeps through all the jostling. My best friend’s hand on mine gives my strained nervous system a slight reset.

“Everything is okay. Hunter is here. August is here. Everyone is here.”

The quaking in my hands gets stronger, but I force myself to look at her.

“We’re safe right now, Winter.”

My shoulders relax into the pillow behind me.

“Knock-knock,” a new voice calls, pulling the curtain back and sliding inside.

“Who are you?” I blink hard. There are so many fucking people coming in and out of this room, and my anxiety has me feeling like I’m standing in a pile of fire ants.

“I’m Dr.Whitney,” the woman says. She takes the stethoscope from her pocket and lifts it up. “Mind if I take a listen?”

I don’t move or respond.

“Her vitals are a little erratic. Do you want to give another dose of Ativan?” This comes from the smiley nurse.

“Another dose? I did not consent to being drugged in the first place!” I look at Veronica, helpless, and the doctor takes up residence near my hip.

“You were quite upset when we wheeled you back here, so we wanted to help you relax while we stitched you up. Luckily, you just got a graze, but I’m sure it hurts like hell,” the doctor says.

Her words are reassuring, I guess, but I’m so weirded out and worried about the baby.

I lift my shaking hands to my stomach.

“I wanted to run your samples down to the lab myself. All is well.” Dr.Whitney’s eyes are friendly, and she doesn’t reflect a hint of malevolence.

“Are you sure?” Drugs. Meds. The baby.

My hand flexes on my lower stomach, and try to rise off the bed again.

“Please, Ms.Vaughan,” one nurse says, placing a gentle hand on my good shoulder.

I flinch away from the touch.

“Nuh-huh, don’t touch her! She needs space, not you crowding her,” Veronica growls with one hand on the back of her daughter’s head.

“How do you know? How do you know everything is okay?” I begin to wail, and the monitors start to chime. I try to breathe in and out.

The doctor speaks. “Ms.Vaughan, your heart rate is getting a little too high?—”

“Is my baby okay?” I feel the press of panic settle in my sternum, and suddenly, I can’t breathe.

The baby.

The baby.

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