Page 38 of Bathed in Blood

“She specializes in end-of-life care.”

My heart drops past my stomach and lands on the floorboard by my feet. Lewis shouldn’t be doing this alone. He’s helping her, right? Clean? He has to be.

For the first time in weeks, I feel the tears that prickle my eyes.

For the first time in weeks, I remember the breeze. My free hand grasps Christian’s where it’s locked on my wrist, but I don’t fight him.

Why did he bring me here?

To let me go?

The thought brings with it a new wave of panic of…. hurt.

When my head snaps to his, my red hair falling wildly in my eyes, he must see it, something dangerously close to adoration in his mossy eyes. I nearly get lost there for a moment. They lookso deep, so rich compared to the death winter brings. There’s a peace there, a plea that goes unspoken.

Keep me.

His hand tightens seconds before he strips peace from the air. The substance to my soul. The second he kills the breeze.

“She’s been taking care of your brother for the past five months.”

The silence that fills the car is so profound, not even the rumble of the engine can penetrate it.

“End stage, according to his most recent medical records. The metastatic cancer started in his left arm. Now, it's everywhere. Unresponsive to treatment. He's been on a morphine drip since last month,” he swallows hard, only now looking at me, “to keep him comfortable.”

My fist collides roughly with his face, drawing on everything that isheras I rage against him. It’s not a small crack that breaks the dam—it’s a fucking bomb. My heart shatters, mixing with the perfectly vacuumed carpet on the floorboard. The gore seeps underneath the soles of shoes I don’t recognize as I hit Christian. I claw, smack, and punch, tears coating my face as sobs rack my chest. I kick and retch until I find my words.

“They need me!”

His hands band around mine, shoving them onto his chest, where I feel his heart raging inside. “I need you, Lana!” A strangled, broken sound escapes me as he releases my wrists, gripping my face. “They left you! Never even filed a missing person’s report. They. Never. Looked!”

His words should shake me, but they don’t. My tears burn my eyes, but I don’t dare remove my hands from his chest, my single remaining anchor. “I wasn’t missing! They knew exactly where I was!”

His eyes widen for a second before the narrow venom swallows his mossy green irises. I want to drown in it, to beswallowed, burned alive by the pure contempt I see there. “They knew the entire time.”

The scoff I make is an ugly sound, not at all the breeze. “Of course, that was the fucking deal. His debt, hislife,for me. I gave it willingly!”

I turn away so hard, my head knocks against the passenger window, avoiding the disgust on his face as I watch the door. My sobs fill the cabin of the car with a bitter agony no amount of detailing will get out.

When my hand claps on the door handle again, it’s the weight of his hand on my thigh that stops me. “Ican'tlet you go, but I give you my word… you'll never see that room again. Lana… please. I don’t deserve you, but you’remine. I need you. I don’t care if it breaks us both.”

The earnest, tortured sound of his voice makes me sob harder.

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Isobbed, raged, and bargained with him until the sun peaked in the sky. Once it started to dip, I grew silent. Nothing filled the car but his soft touches and gentle warnings when I tried to get out. It gets dark so early this time of year, and you could barely see the snow as it started to spit unless you stared at the streetlamps. This time, when he puts the car in drive, I don’t fight it. No more sobs tear at my raw throat. No more bargaining or pleas. My place isn’t here.

The Sullivans made sure of it.

Or maybe it never was.

Maybe there’s no more use for the breeze.

When I lean over the center console, resting my head on my arm, I sleep.

“Princess, I would let you rest, but we’re already late.” The warmth of the voice is only second to the hands making gentle, adoring passes on my face, lovingly tracing my features like the husband from my dreams. I grumble, tucking my face into the bend of my arm to escape the featherlight touch, my head still pounding. “Sweet Lana, they’re waiting for us.”

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