Page 37 of Property of Spike

As we step through the hospital’s sliding doors, I force myself to dial it back. My body is vibrating with the need to move, to get to her, but I know walking in like a raging bull isn’t gonna help.

Alex takes the lead, flashing his badge at the receptionist. “Officer Alex Cooper. This is my associate, Ethan Turner. We’re here to see Riley Hayes.”

How the fuck does he know my real name? I’m gonna have to kill Maverick. What else has he told this fucking cop?

The receptionist nods, barely glancing up. “I’ve been expecting you. She’s in room two-nineteen. Elevators down the hall on the right, second floor.”

“Appreciate it, ma’am,” Alex says smoothly.

I force myself to move at his pace, even though every instinct in me is screaming to shove past him and run.

Less than five minutes later, I’m stepping through her door.

And the second I see her, every bit of control I have left fucking snaps. Her eyes widen as she looks our way, but it only enhances her injuries.

“Don’t lose it now, Spike,” Alex whispers. “She needs you in control.”

Taking a deep breath, I take in every bit of Riley and commit her injuries to memory.

Riley, who has a body full of beautiful curves… who should look soft and strong… looks small. Too fucking small, swallowed by the sterile white sheets and surrounded by beeping machines.

One side of her face is so swollen it distorts her features, her cheekbone a mess of deep purple, sickly yellow already forming around the edges. Her right eye is bloodshot, the whites flooded with red from the burst vessel. The sight of it makes something deep in my chest crack open.

And then I see the bruises.

Dark, angry fingerprints wrapped around her throat like a fucking noose.

I’ve seen bruises like that before. I know what it takes to leave a mark that deep. I know how long, how fucking hard, someone has to squeeze for them to form. That son of a bitch tried to choke the life out of her.

A bandage wraps around her head, strands of her auburn hair peeking out from the edges. I don’t know how bad that injury is, but she must’ve hit something hard. Hard enough to cause a concussion.

Her lips part slightly like she wants to say something, but when she tries, nothing comes out. Just a raw, strained sound.

Her throat is too fucked up to speak.

Fuck.

My fists clench so tight my knuckles crack.

“Spike.”

Alex’s voice barely registers. I can’t look away from her. I did this.

No, I didn’t throw the punches. But I let her go back to him.

I was so fucking cruel, so brutal with my words, that I sent her running straight into the arms of a monster.

And now? She’s lying in a hospital bed, looking too fucking small, too fucking broken.

I step forward slowly, swallowing back the rage that’s threatening to tear me apart. I don’t want her to flinch. I don’t want her to be afraid of me.

Carefully, I reach for her hand.

She fucking flinches.

It’s barely noticeable, just a slight twitch of her fingers, but I see it. I feel it.

And I, it fucking wrecks me.

---