Page 90 of The Twilight Theft

Her eyes were closed. Breathing shallow. Heartbeat slow but steady.

She’d been active the entire time Wyatt held her, so he hadn’t choked her out. Had she hit her head when I tackled Wyatt? Had he shot her?

No blood, other than cuts and scrapes. Nothing that looked like a gunshot.

“Jayce,” I whispered, running a hand over her cheek. “Wake up.”

Nothing.

The other men were talking. Raised voices, harsh demands, blatant threats. It blended with the continued screams and yells from far below.

“C’mon, Jayce.” I leaned closer, threading my fingers into her hair, and tried again. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

What happened? What did I miss?

She’d been standing, and he hadn’t wrenched her neck, so it wouldn’t be a spinal injury. What was wrong? I wasn’t about to leave her there. I slid my arms under her and stood slowly, letting her head roll against my chest.

“Drew!” yelled Rav, snapping my attention to him. He was pulling Wyatt to his feet. “I asked what’s wrong with her?”

Sirens sounded in the distance. Hopefully, there were ambulances with the police.

“I don’t know, but I’m getting her—”

Jayce groaned but didn’t budge. “What are you doing, Down-avon?”

The tightness in my chest relaxed. “You’re hurt. I’m taking you—”

“Put me down.” She clenched her jaw and touched her throat, swallowing hard. Her eyes were closed. How’d she know it was me? “Normal men ask for permission first.”

“You need medical attention.” A streak of pain ran up my side. I’d almost forgotten about it in the panic. Or the adrenaline had been too strong. “I’m taking you downstairs.”

“I just need food.” Her eyes fluttered open, and my world righted itself. “Put me down.”

“But your leg? You were limping.”

“An act.” She craned her neck to look at Wyatt, who’d grown silent under Rav and Marc’s questioning. Her voice remained soft, a sharp contrast to the panic outside the restaurant. “And it worked. So put me down.”

“You’re not—”

“She said”—Rav handed Wyatt over to Marc—“put her down.”

I eased her legs down slowly, not wanting to incur his wrath. Wyatt hadn’t given them the fight either of the big men apparently wanted, and I wasn’t interested in being their consolation prize.

Jayce stood easily, balling her hands on her hips. But she didn’t move from her position and was obviously balancing on her right leg.

As though directed by some unheard communication, Rav came to her side and looped an arm around her waist. “Scarlett’s advised the Tremaines we caught Wyatt with the chip. They’re trying to calm the partygoers.”

“We should get downstairs.” Jayce visibly leaned on Rav. Was she too proud to admit she needed help? It made sense, given her ultra-competitive personality.

Or it was still about me. She was too proud to acceptmyhelp.

“Your shoes are at the top of the stairs,” I said to her.

“Where’s your earpiece?” asked Rav.

Jayce pointed toward the edge of the rooftop, closer to where she must have climbed over. “Wyatt smashed it.”

A popping noise came from that direction, and something shimmered across the ground.

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