Page 121 of Ruthless Regret

"But the blood—there was so much blood?—"

"Will be explained by Zain's injuries." He squeezes my shoulder. "Focus on playing your part. Can you do that?"

I think about Zain, fighting for his life in the hospital. About the blood that still stains my hands no matter how hard I scrub. About fourteen years of nightmares that suddenly make horrible sense.

"Yes," I whisper. "I can do that."

"Good girl." He straightens up. "Let's get you cleaned up. Then we'll go see him."

I nod, fighting back tears.

I can do this. I can hold it together.

I have to.

The image of Zain bleeding out on the kitchen floor flashes through my mind again. He has to survive this. He has to wake up.

Because if he doesn't, McFadden wins.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

ZAIN

Everything hurts.

That's my first coherent thought as I surface from the fog of painkillers. My side feels like it's on fire, my head throbs with every heartbeat, and even breathing sends sharp stabs of pain through my chest.

But I'm alive.

And more importantly, I'm thinking clearly for the first time since waking up in this hospital bed yesterday. Memories come back in fragments—the fight, Marcus's knife slicing through flesh, Ashley's scream.

The beeping of the heart monitor is a constant reminder of where I am. The smell of antiseptic brings back memories of prison infirmary stays.

Different circumstances, same clinical detachment. Same feeling of vulnerability.

I hate hospitals almost as much as I hate prison cells.

Rook is still here, settled in a chair by the window like he hasn't moved in hours. Maybe he hasn't. His presence is familiar and reassuring—a reminder that I'm not alone in this anymore.

"McFadden's been trying to get in to question you," he says without looking up from his phone. "Hospital's keeping him at bay for now. Saying you're not stable enough for visitors."

I try to shift position and immediately regret it. Pain tears through my side, forcing a harsh breath between my teeth. "How long can they keep that up?" I say once it recedes.

"Another day, maybe two. Bishop's got Ashley at one of our safehouses. She's holding it together." He finally looks up. "She remembered something. About the night Jason and Louisa were killed."

My heart monitor betrays the spike in my pulse. "What?"

"She saw McFadden. Standing at the end of the driveway when she ran out of the house."

"Fuck." The word comes out as barely more than a whisper. "She's sure?"

"Yeah. Which means we need to move carefully. She's playing it cool, not letting on that she's remembered, but ..." He lets the implication hang in the air.

McFadden won't hesitate to eliminate another threat. Just like he had Marcus kill Ramsey. Just like he tried to have Marcus kill us.

"What's the plan?" I try to ignore the way each breath feels like knives in my chest.

"We let him think he's still in control. Let him believe his cleanup attempt worked." Rook stands, pacing the length of the small room. "He'll want to verify you don't remember anything from before you passed out. That's our opening."

---