Page 17 of The High Priestess

I stare at her pale complexion while the machines make nerve-racking noises.

A nurse comes down the hallway, and when I lock eyes with her, I ask, “Are the machines supposed to sound like that?”

She nods. “Her vitals are good. She’s a fighter.”

When the nurse walks away, I turn my attention back to Cassia and slowly step deeper into the room. I stop next to the bed, and my gaze drifts over the bandage around her bicep before settling on the breathing tube.

The memory of Cassia running behind Eleni flits through my mind. Through the scope of my rifle, I saw the gunshot wounds she suffered, but still, she kept running until I killed the second bratva soldier. The moment she realized help had arrived she seemed to lose all her fight.

The images flash through my mind like a reel from a film.

The bodies dropping as I killed one fucker after the other.

Cassia slowing down, and the bullet hitting her in the back.

Cassia crawling to get to her sister.

Even though she begged me to save Eleni, there was nothing I could do.

Just like there was nothing I could do for Ronnie.

The memory of Ronnie’s body pinned beneath the bastard while foam was dribbling from the corner of her parted lips ravages my already destroyed soul.

My legs almost give way, and I place my hand on the side of the bed for support.

I’m surprised when Cassia’s fingers stir, and the knuckle of her pointer finger brushes against the side of my pinky. My eyes flick to her face, but not seeing any other signs that she’s coming to, I let out a sigh.

For some reason I can’t explain, I pull the armchair closer and take a seat beside the bed.

The bratva wiped out her family, and she kept going with three bullet wounds. Not even the fourth one took her out. She still crawled to her sister.

Flashes of when Cassia saved Santiago and Dominik flit through my mind, and my eyes narrow on the woman who’s much stronger than she looks.

My eyes drift over her face. Her pale complexion makes her seem fragile, and I catch myself doing something weird by taking hold of her hand.

Her skin is ice cold, so I lift my other hand and rub my palm up and down her arm.

She’s freezing.

I tuck her arm beneath the white sheet and adust the fabric around her before I get up to go look for Jasmine, the nurse.

Finding the woman at a nursing station, I ask, “Where do you keep the blankets?”

Her eyebrows lift as she gestures to a room behind her. “Do you need one?”

“Just give me two,” I order.

She pops into the room, and a few seconds later, she returns with two blankets, which she hands to me.

I head to Eleni’s room and place one of the blankets on the armchair while I cover her with the other. As I tuck the fabric in around the girl, my mind plays tricks on me, and for a split second, I see Ronnie lying with a breathing tube.

“Ronnie,” I whisper, my heart stuttering in my chest.

When I blink again, it’s to see Eleni, and I step away from the bed while sucking in a deep breath. Swinging around, I grab the other blanket and rush back to Cassia’s room.

As I’m draping the blanket over her, she lets out a soft groan, but when she doesn’t move or open her eyes, I start to get worried.

Hurrying out of the room, I head to the nurses' station, and as the woman lifts her head, I gesture with a jab of my thumb over my shoulder. “Cassia just groaned. I think she’s in pain.”

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