Page 84 of Reign of Psychos

I wasn’t fine at all, but I was doing a good job of hiding it. Mostly. And besides, I knew he was just as worried about his mother as we all were about Kyril.

Milo, Dario, and Landon sat around the waiting room in various states of discomfort. My men looked just as uncomfortable as me.

“You need to get some rest,cara,” Dario said for the millionth time. “Let me take you back to the hotel for a few hours.”

I glared at him. “No.” I was aware I needed to sleep, and a change of clothes would be most welcome, but I refused to leave the hospital until I knew Kyril was OK.

Dario threw his hands in the air in frustration. “At least let me order you some food. I bet you haven’t eaten a damn thing since yesterday lunchtime!”

He was right. I hadn’t. We’d left the hotel mid-afternoon, and it was now early the next morning. My stomach growled right on cue.

“I could eat,” I admitted, reluctantly, even if the thought of eating anything made me feel ill. Still, I conceded that something in my stomach might help ease the lingering nausea.

“I’ll go see what I can find.”

“And I’ll come with you,” Landon said, stretching out the kinks in his neck. He looked as rough as I felt, just less smoky.

Milo looked up from his tablet. “A flat white for me and Thea would like an egg, pesto, and mozzarella sandwich with a chai tea latte from the Starbucks in the lobby.”

“I would?”

“Yes. Eggs are good for the baby, and a chai tea will give you some energy.” My jaw dropped. I sometimes wondered if Milo had special mind-reading skills. It was as if he knew my needs before I did. He reached out and squeezed my other hand. “He’ll be alright. Kyril has a very hard head.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Tears welled up again. I’d done more crying in the last 24 hours than in my entire life. Maybe these guys had broken me.

The television fixed on the far wall showed footage from the scene of the fire. Cameras panned around the charred remains of Blackwood Manor, zooming in on the still smoking, partially collapsed roof.

“…and in a fresh development on the Blackwood Manor fire, investigators have located human remains inside the house. The identity of the body has yet to be confirmed, but sources say it is likely to be that of Lucian Forsyth, the former special security adviser to the Prime Minister. We’ll have more on this story as it unfolds. Meanwhile, a suspected terror attack in…”

“The police will be along today to interview us,” Cassian murmured in my ear. “It’s just a formality. The official line beingtrotted out to the press is that the fire was caused by an electrical fault and Dad died from smoke inhalation after drinking too much.” I nodded, not at all interested in the investigation. They could charge me with murder if they wanted. As long as Kyril recovered, that was all I cared about.

I curled into Cassian’s side, taking comfort from his steady heartbeat. Everything would be fine. It had to be.

The guys returned with food and beverages. I took the sandwich and ate it without tasting a thing. People came and went. The news cycle moved onto other stories: some celeb drama on the latest reality TV show and a movie director accused of sexual assault.

I paid no attention.

“Which one of you is Kyril Orliov’s family?” A rumpled man wearing a creased white shirt and black pants, with a stethoscope around his neck, scanned our motley group and frowned.

“I’m his fiancée,” I said. The doctor looked at the way Cassian’s hand rested on my thigh and his frown deepened.

“We’re his brothers,” Cassian added.

“…of another mother,” Landon coughed in a low voice.

“OK, well… Your fiancée can have visitors now. A maximum of two people, please.”

I jumped up, dragging Cassian with me. “Where is he?” My heart pumped furiously in my chest, chasing my exhaustion away. If Kyril was ready for visitors, he must be alright. The doctor would have told us if he wasn’t, right?

“Relax, baby girl. Kyril is OK. We’d have heard by now if he wasn’t.” He squeezed my hand as we hurried down a corridor.

This hospital seemed a step up from the hospitals I’d visited as a child. More luxurious, with better artwork on the walls. The doctor pushed open a door to reveal Kyril lying asleep on a bed.Thick bandages covered his hands and arms. The faint tang of smoke lingered in the air as I rushed over to the bed.

I choked down a sob, not wanting to wake him, but his eyes snapped open the minute I brushed his stubbled jaw with my fingers, taking care not to disturb the oxygen tube.

“Moy kotenok,” he rasped.

Cassian spoke to the doctor behind us, but my focus remained on Kyril.

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