Page 54 of Brutal Savior

They’ve taken off my dressing gown, so she’s naked, though they’ve covered her bottom half with a thin white sheet. Sticky monitors cover her chest, and a machine next to the bed shows her heart rhythm. The docs study it, talking quietly, and then the older one comes over. He’s a Brother, unlike his young assistant.

“She looks good, Jacob. Her heart has settled into a proper rhythm, and she’ll be awake soon. She’ll need regular monitoring, though, and I want to give you some meds for her to keep on hand at all times.”

“Why the fuck wasn’t I told about this?” I can barely tear my eyes from Quinn long enough to speak to him. He’s old, into his seventies, and his bald head shines in the harsh overhead light.

He only comes up to my shoulder, but his voice is stern as he replies, “A full medical history was sent to your email, along with advice to bring her in for a more focused workup. You would have received it last night. You had the information as soon as we did.”

Last night. With everything that's happened, I haven't even checked my emails. Guilt takes all the wind out of my sails, and I apologize to the doc before thumping down into a chair next to Quinn.

This is my fault. This girl, this living human, is one hundred percent my responsibility, and I didn’t take adequate care with her. I should have known everything about her medically before I put her in a cage. Before I fucked her. The excitement of the past few days has made me careless. I pull out my phone and open her file, reading carefully.

By the time I finish, I want to strangle Quinn. Numerous reports from the hospital of her getting admitted after taking drugs. Ecstasy and coke. According to the doctors’ notes, the exact worst things you can do if you have Brugada syndrome. She might have damaged her heart permanently, and for what? It looks like she was pretty sensible until six months ago, then went way off the rails.

If the useless bloody Gilda hadn’t grabbed her by mistake, she’d probably have ended up dead. She’s got zero chance of that with me around. Drugs are available in the Compound to the Brothers that want them. Some swear by microdosing LSD; others like to pretend they’re cartel lords and throw parties with bowls of charlie on the table.

I’ll make sure Quinn doesn’t get her hands on any of it and keep her drinking in check as well. She’ll be healthy if it damn well kills me.

“Jacob?” Her voice is softer than normal, without its usual acidic bite. God, I like hearing her say my name like that.

I force myself to smile down at her, though part of me wants to berate her for her behavior right away. “If you wanted out of the cage that badly, you could have just asked. No need to be so dramatic.”

She smiles weakly, then looks down at the sticky pads on her chest and the beeping monitor. She sighs, face falling. There’s a moment when she looks much older than she is, sadness and exhaustion heavy on her face. She meets my gaze again. “At least I don’t have to worry about the medical bills here.”

“That’s right. I’ll add it to your tab and take it out of your arse. Don’t worry.”

I don’t know why I’m trying so hard to make her laugh. I’m not exactly known for my sparkling sense of humor. But I hate the heaviness hanging over her. It doesn’t suit her.

She yawns and plucks at one of the pads. “Can you get these off me?”

“I’ll check with the doc.”

Five minutes later, I’m pulling the pads off her chest, accompanied by her squeaked complaints. I tap a finger to her lips. “Shush. Stop being such a wimp.”

Her mouth drops open as soon as I remove my finger. “I’m not a wimp.”

“Really?” I pull off the second to last pad, and she winces. “Could have fooled me.”

“It’s sore. I’m hungry. I’ve had enough of this endless fucking day.”

I ignore her and pull off the last pad. “All done. Sit up. You can wear my dressing gown back home.”

“Great. I get to look like a geriatric.” She sits up despite her grumbling, moving obediently as I slide her arms into the sleeves and tuck it around her.

Christ. That grumpy face. Her messy hair. The way she disappears into my oversized gown. There’s something dangerously adorable about her, and my heart does a painful twist in my chest.

It’s a pang of guilt for my negligence, mixed with the desire to tuck this girl up somewhere safe and keep her there forever. Ifeel like I stepped on a kitten and now have to nurse it back to health.

I might be in some deep shit.

“Earth to Jacob? Can we go? I hate hospitals.”

I smile and pick her up. She wriggles against me. “Never thought you’d be so anxious to get back to my bedroom.”

That shuts her up.

Soon, she’s in my bed, eating toast. I watch every crumb as it drops onto the sheets and force myself not to react. She’s hungry. I can clean it up later. The blue circles under her eyes stand out stark against her pale skin, and a yawn overtakes me, too.

I’ve closed the blinds to try and pretend the sun isn’t rising. It’s going to be a very busy day, and I need at least a couple of hours of sleep before facing it. I can go days without rest if I have to, but I’m out of practice.

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