Page 86 of Séance

What better way to gain information about her than by interrogating her very own father?

It doesn’t take long for me to schedule an investor meeting for later this afternoon.

With a plan in place, I shove the door open and head inside, grimacing when my shoes squelch with every step—another thing that I place at Rue’s feet. I don’t regret my actions, but if she had told us, we could have come up with a better plan that didn’t include me taking a dunk in scummy pond water or a baby being tossed in the fucking water like trash.

As I open the door, my phone beeps.

Once.

Twice.

Then half a dozen more times in rapid succession, sounding like an arcade game going wild.

Ignoring the group chat, I focus on Ellis’ messages.

The lawyer has arrived.

Before I can tuck my phone away, an attachment pops up on my screen. I click the link as I walk inside the building and watch the shaky footage of the women fighting. It looks bad. The videomissed the footage of how the fight started. It just looks like Rue went crazy and tried to drown a mother of four.

Turning the screen off, I head toward the front desk, only to detour when I spot my lawyer waiting to be admitted into the back. He winces when he catches sight of my disheveled appearance. “Which one of them was it this time? And what happened?”

In his late fifties, Hugo is the epitome of the perfect lawyer—form-fitting suit, stylish gray hair, and an intimidating as fuck appearance. The man never loses his cool. He runs his own firm with five other partners and only comes out of the office for his important clients.

“Fight at the park, and it’s a…friend. Tallulah Rue Killaghan. She came in injured.” I clench and unclench my fists, fighting against the need to hit things.

I hate feeling fucking helpless.

She was hurt on my watch.

It’s unforgivable.

“I’ll take care of it.” Hugo turns away, the door to the station buzzing to admit him, then he’s gone. That’s why we pay Hugo his big retainer—he gets shit done without asking stupid questions.

I lean against the wall, ignoring my phone as it continues to buzz. The guys are demanding updates, but fuck if I have anything to report yet. I note the time on the wall, and I stand as still as a statue as I watch the clock tick down.

I have two hours before my appointment, but I refuse to leave until I know Rue is safe and I can look at her injuries and judge for myself how badly she’s hurt. Imagining my delicate Rue behind bars has rage flooding my system, and it’s all I can do to contain my fury.

Time slows to a crawl when, in reality, it’s only forty minutes before Hugo emerges again. I don’t move from my post until he steps aside and Rue appears behind him.

My breath leaves me in a rush at her rough shape.

Half of her face is caked with dried blood, and her hair is a matted tangled mess. A knot the size of an egg is near her hairline, and she has a nasty, two-inch cut near the edge of her scalp that’s still bleeding sluggishly. Dark bruises cover the whole side of her head from her temple to her jaw. She’s also sporting a vicious black eye, but thankfully, it’s not swollen shut. Burst blood vessels make her teal eyes look like a bloody mess.

I curl my hands into fists, fighting against the need to march over there and take care of her.

I scowl at Hugo, my voice harsh as I snap at him. “Why the fuck didn’t they treat her?”

I shake with rage as I march toward her, then I slow when she doesn’t even look at me. In fact, there is no flicker of recognition in her gaze when I stop before her. It’s only when I reach for her face that she hastily steps back, breaking eye contact with me.

“Ms. Killaghan has refused treatment,” Hugo says, his gray eyes murderous as he peers down at Rue. As a grandfather of six girls, he has a soft spot for females. “Neither woman wants to press charges. After reviewing the incident, I was able to convince the police it was in their best interest not to file disorderly conduct charges.” He pauses, finally tearing his attention away from Rue. “Take her home. If you need any further assistance, call me.”

I don’t turn away from Rue as he walks off, afraid if I blink she might disappear. She radiates tension, a don’t touch me vibe, and I keep my distance, not sure how she’ll react if I try to help her.

“Come.” I head toward the door and open it for her, bile rising in my throat when I watch her shuffle toward me withsmall steps, obviously in pain, yet she doesn’t say a fucking word, doesn’t react at all besides reaching up to cradle her ribs.

Following her carefully, worried she might drop at any second, I lead her to my car, but she stops on the curb instead.

“My car is over here.” I motion to my vehicle just two spots away, but she doesn’t react. Concerned that she might have a concussion, I take a step toward her, when a car service pulls up in front of her.

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