Page 64 of Ruthless Serenade

"Sharon is in good hands here," he continues. "Besides, she’s young and strong; kids bounce back from these kinds of surgeries much quicker than us adults."

His words are meant to be reassuring, but they feel hollow in the face of my terror. Still, I cling to them. The paramedics said the same thing. Maybe it’s just what they’re supposed to say in situations like this?

"Can I see her?" I ask quietly. "Before the surgery, I mean."

The doctor nods. "Of course. She’s a bit groggy from the pain medication, but she’s awake. She’s down the hall, being prepared for the operation."

I’m moving before he finishes speaking, my feet carrying me toward my daughter. At the end of the hallway, I spot her small form on a raised hospital bed, dwarfed by the machinery surrounding her. My heart clenches at the sight.

As I approach, her eyes flutter open, struggling against the heavy pull of the pain meds. "Mommy," she murmurs.

I’m at her side in an instant, my hand finding hers. "Everything’s going to be fine, baby," I whisper. "You’re my strong little bunny, remember?" I press a kiss to her forehead, inhaling her scent that is now tinged with antiseptic.

All too soon, a nurse appears. "I need to take her to the surgery room, ma’am."

I watch helplessly as they wheel Sharon away. The double doors swing shut behind them with a finality that leaves me cold. And just like that, I’m alone again.

The hospital corridor suddenly feels vast and empty around me. The loneliness that engulfs me feels cosmic in its intensity. I’ve never in my life felt so powerless. So helpless. Not even in my darkest days, or after Emily’s death.

Emily’s gone.

Mom’s gone.

Maron’s gone.

I can’t lose the one person who means everything to me: my daughter.

I find myself slumping against the wall, my legs barely holding me up. A prayer, rusty from disuse, forms on my lips. "Please, God," I whisper into the uncaring fluorescent lights, "let her be okay. Just let her be okay. I’ll do anything. No matter what it is."

The words hang in the air. They feel hollow, a desperate plea to a deity I’m not even sure I believe in anymore. But in this moment, I’d bargain with the devil himself if it meant keeping my daughter healthy.

As the hours drag on, my body begins to rebel against the stress and the sleeplessness. My stomach growls. I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday’s dinner, but the thought of food turns my gut. My throat is parched, crying out for water, yet I can’t bring myself to leave this spot, afraid I’d miss news about Sharon.

The bright neon light of the hospital ward bores into my skull, intensifying the dull throb behind my eyes. Exhaustion begins to weigh on me. I fight it, forcing my eyes to stay open, but I can’t. My eyelids close, then open again.

And again.

And again.

Eventually, a gentle touch on my shoulder snaps me out of my daze. I have no idea how much time has passed. I blink, disoriented, and find the same doctor standing over me.

My eyes snap open, instantly alert, scanning his expression for answers. But before he can even speak, the room tilts, a disorienting whirl that makes my heart drop like a stone. Fear tightens around my throat, sharp and unrelenting, bracing me for the worst possible outcome.

"Ms. Williams, your daughter…" he begins, biting his lower lip, and I’m sure I’m about to pass out.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Maron

Earlier that day

I wake up with a painful erection.

I’m not even surprised by it anymore. In my dream, I was with Mindy, fucking her until we were both spent.

I breathe in deeply, my eyes still closed as I try to banish her image from my mind. It’s futile. Of course, it is. The memory of her perfect ass grinding against me, the sound of her moans, and the sweet taste of her cum on my tongue are all seared into my subconscious.

It’s the faint light by my bed that finally snaps me awake. I look to my right and realize it’s my phone. I had put it on silent for the night, so the only indication of the incoming call is the glowing screen.

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