Page 100 of The Devil's Torment

Reaching up, she presses her palm to my cheek. “Never mind, it’ll wait.”

Seconds later, she’s gone.

I sink onto a chair and let my head fall into my waiting hands, thrusting my fingers into my hair.

Sometime later, footsteps sound, getting closer. Whoever it is stops, expels a deep sigh, and sits next to me.

“Nicholas.” Laura touches my back. I jerk upright, and her hand falls away. “How was she?”

Astounded, I snort. “If you’d come to see her, you’d know the answer to that, wouldn’t you? But, once again, you favor Elizabeth. You’re so fucking obvious, Laura.”

“That’s not true. I came to her room once I got Elizabeth settled, but it was empty.”

My glare is hateful enough that she flinches. “Did it occur to you to maybe split the parental responsibilities? You know, Phillip with one daughter and you with the other?”

She bites her lip. “It’s a stressful time. We’re not thinking straight.”

“Screw you, Laura.” I erupt from my seat. “I need fresh air.”

“Nicholas,” she calls out in a plaintive voice, but I’m beyond listening. I sprint down the stairs and emerge into a biting wind and fine drizzle. Lifting my face to the sky, I close my eyes and take several deep breaths.

“The waiting is the worst, isn’t it?”

I sigh and meet my father-in-law’s gaze. “What do you want, Phillip?”

“For both my daughters to make it through this operation. For us to find a way through and improve our relationship.”

I look away. “If by ‘us’, you mean you and me, this isn’t the time. I’m in no mood to be tactful, nor consider your feelings.”

“I understand.” He lights a cigarette, blowing plumes of smoke into the air. “I haven’t smoked in years. Bummed one off the receptionist.”

The response on the tip of my tongue is a curt, “And?” Instead, I say nothing.

The rain stops, and the sun peeks out from behind the clouds, but a second later, it’s gone again. Pivoting, I head back inside. Phillip follows me like a leech I can’t shake. It’s clear Laura told him what I said to her, and if this is his way of trying to atone, he’s doing a shitty job of it. On the way back to the waiting area outside the operating theater, I pour myself a coffee. It tastes like ashes, but the caffeine hit is welcome.

Two to three hours the surgeon said. When the clock ticks past the third hour and rolls into the fourth, my worry increases tenfold. Something’s wrong. I feel it. I know it. Like a sixth sense, intuition stabs at me, and my abdomen dips and rises. Pacing doesn’t calm me. Sitting doesn’t calm me. Raking my hands through my hair and pulling it out by the roots doesn’t calm me. Phillip sticks around while Laura disappears to wait outside the theater they’ve taken Elizabeth to.

If Victoria doesn’t make it through, I’ll burn this place to the ground. I’ll burn the fucking world to the ground.

Another thirty minutes pass, and I’m this fucking close to bursting through the operating room doors and demanding to know what the fuck is going on when they open, and Victoria’s surgeon emerges.

“What’s happening?” I stuff my hands in my pockets in case they close around his neck and choke the information out of him.

“Mrs. De Vil has come through the surgery well. She’s in recovery.”

My knees buckle, and I plant a hand on the wall to steady myself.

“Thank God,” Phillip whispers.

The surgeon pats me on the upper shoulder. “I’ll have a nurse come and take you to her shortly.”

“Why the delay? You said two to three hours. It’s almost four.”

“Two to three is average, but every patient is different. There was a small complication that took a little more time to fix.”

My heart lands at my feet. “What kind of complication?”

“Mrs. De Vil suffered a small internal bleed. We stopped the bleeding and transfused her.” Another pat. “It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

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