Page 36 of Cruel Hearts

“Stella.”

“Yes. I’m here, and I’m okay. Ash is a liar, and we need to help Zane. Do you understand?” I brush my fingers over her cheek. She’s in there, somewhere. It’s more than I dared to hope for.

“You’re here,” she whispers, her lips quivering.

“I’m here, and I’m going to get you out, but you have to fight. We need to make Ash pay for what he’s done.”

“How?”

“Are they giving you drugs?”

She swallows and nods.

“Okay. Probably lots. Try to come back to us. You have a lot to live for.” I keep my voice firm but pleasant.

My time has run out. If I want to disappear in the commotion, I need to go. I gather her lithe, spiritless body in my arms and press a kiss to her hair. “I’m going to get you out of here, but you have to help me, okay? Remember I’m here, that I’m all right.”

I wiggle the pen from beneath the board’s silver clip. My drawing skills are horrible, but I outline a martini glass on theinside of her wrist. Quickly, I sketch the triangle, line for the stem, and the circle for the base of the glass. I add a swizzle stick and write “Sweet Apple” under it.

I’m hoping she remembers that’s what we shared. She turned me on to apple martinis. I add a small heart and ink it in.

“Start fighting,” I say, then I stand.

“Stella,” she whispers.

“Yeah. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Ash is bad.”

When she says that, I notice she’s still wearing his engagement ring.

I’m ashamed to say I let Ash take the ring Zane gave me the night he promised he would marry me one day. At the time, I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. I’d resigned to my fate, and it took me too long to find my spirit.

“Ashisbad, and I need your help to prove it. Let’s give him what he deserves, okay?” I pull the ring off her finger, and she lifts her hand. She stares at it like an infant discovering her fingers for the first time.

Something in her shifts and a darkness drops away.

I hate leaving her, but I have no choice. Giving her another hug and kissing her cheek, I say, “I love you, Zarah. Fight this. Fight them. We can’t let them win.”

A clipboard is hanging near her door, and it lists her daily schedule. Moving my finger down the paper, I count six medications they give Zarah every day. My stomach heaves in disgust. They’re poisoning her.

I drop Zarah’s ring into my bag and pull out Quinn’s phone. It has ten percent charge remaining. I snap a few pictures of her prescription list, then with another quick look over my shoulder, I’m gone.

I leave her staring at her bare finger, and God knows how long it’s been, a smile on her lips.

I ditch the lab coat and hurry out the nearest door. No one stops me.

German shepherds are sniffing around, and a SWAT team crawls through the facility and over the grounds. They snap at me to evacuate, that the employees and patients who are able to do so have gathered across the street, and securing my purse, I hurry to the parking lot.

Denton didn’t give me any instructions, and I start walking down the long driveway. More police cars drive toward the building and some of the cops stare at me as they roll by. Feeling too exposed, I cut across the grass. Trees dot the grounds, and their cover reduces a little of my tension. The sanatorium’s property is huge, and it’s almost a half an hour later I reach an adjacent street.

I’m starting to worry Denton really did abandoned me when he slows along the side of the road. I scramble into the car, grateful to be shielded from sight and the midday heat.

He doesn’t waste any time asking if I’m okay. “What did you find out?”

“Look at this before you start driving.” I hand him Quinn’s phone.

He squints at the small screen and medication list and whistles through his teeth. “They have her on enough drugs to put an elephant into a coma.”

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