Page 161 of Never Fall for an Angel

Not that I slept much before.

Lead fills my chest. The uncertainty of what I’m going to find when I walk through the door has been playing Russian Roulette with my mind all fucking day. “What happened?”

“They don’t know who did it,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Fuck,” he grits, scrubbing a hand over his face. “She’s in a medically induced coma. They thought it would help because she’s got broken ribs and a collar bone. A head injury.”

I take a step toward the door and his voice rings out, stopping me in my tracks.

“There’s something else.”

I pause, not liking the tone of his voice.

Prickling, icy fear slips over me. I know the worst. Surely, there can’t be more.

“She was pregnant,” he says finally, his eyes darkening past recognition. “Eight weeks.”

I’m thankful for the numbness that slips over me when he says those words. I’m afraid if it hadn’t, I would have destroyed this entire fucking hospital.

He shakes his head, his lip curling up in a sneer.

“You couldn’t just let her go, could you? It was over.”

“It wasn’t over for me.”

His eyes flash dangerously, and he steps in front of the door.

“When she wakes, she can decide if she wants to see you.”

“Get out of the way, Carpenter.”

“Fuck off, Cross. You left her. You said you’d keep her safe.” He shoves at my chest, and I take a step back, anger bubbling just underneath the surface. “That’s my little fucking sister.”

“And she’s myfucking wife.” I shove him back, and he stumbles back into the wall. I’m too pissed off to care. The rage rushing through me all consuming.

Silence falls over the halls and both of us stand on opposite sides, glaring at each other.

I step toward the door and this time, he doesn’t stop me.

“She’s going to hate you,” he murmurs from behind me and I pause, hand on the doorknob.

“She already does.”

“She won’t eat.”

I nod once, staring at the bedroom door down the hall that may as well lead to a tomb.

The whole fucking house is a tomb. The curtains are drawn and the lights dimmed. The only time that fucking door opens is when Monica steps inside to bring in a new plate of food and to remove the old, untouched one.

I fucking hate it. This . . . barrier separating me from her. I want to rip the door to shreds. At least then, I’d be able to see her. Know she’s alive and not just another ghost haunting these walls.

The last time I saw her, she was in a coma and I haven’t been allowed around her since. That was three. Fucking. Weeks ago, and I’m losing my goddamned mind.

“I’m not sure if I should take her back to the hospital. She’ll hate me, but I fear I won’t have a choice. It’s beenfourdays since she’s eaten anything. I can’t even get her to drink.”

“Let me talk to her.”

Monica shakes her head.

“It’s not a good idea, Christian. She’s already been through so much where you’re concerned.”

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