Page 22 of Rivals & Revenge

I bolted upright, my legs scrambling to free themselves from the tangle of sheets and blankets.

Two strong arms pressed on my shoulders, pushing me back onto the pillow, my breath catching when my eyes found hers.

Hazel eyes, more green than blue, called to a memory, something visceral.

I pushed my arms between hers, a guttural cry tearing from my throat as I wrench them apart, freeing myself from her grasp.

She stumbled backward, her hands up in front of her like she was fending off a rabid dog. “Tierney. I need you to listen to me.”

“Who are you?” I asked, hating the slight tremor in my voice.

Her hands lowered slightly. “I’m Larissa. Larissa Connor. I’m Ahren’s doctor. He asked me to care for you.”

I nodded, my eyes sweeping over the room, only now recognizing the room from my previous stay here.

“Doctor.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“What’s wrong with me? Broken rib, right?”

Her shoulders dropped, and she released a heavy breath. “Three actually. Have a seat and I’ll walk you through everything I have done since the attack.” She continued, offering me a gentle smile.

I climbed back into the bed, pulling the fluffy blanket back over me. “Where is he?”

She shrugged. “Not sure. He said he had some errands to run and he would be back. He asked me to care for you in the meantime.”

I nodded, kicking myself internally for asking that. Why did I even care? Doctor? Well, I guess that answers why he brought me here instead of taking me home.

“You have three broken ribs and another with a hairline fracture. There was some internal bleeding. I stopped most of it, but there were a few minor bleeds that should heal on their own. Of course, I was hoping you would stay in bed where I could closely monitor you and not go running off and actively trying to kill yourself,” she said bluntly.

“Is that all?” I asked, matching her snarky tone.

A wry smirk curled on her lips before she continued. “No actually. You had either six or seven lacerations and I stitched them up, but I am sure you noticed that when you wrapped your ribs before your—excursion.”

“So, were you the one to cleanme up, or did he—?”

“Yeah, no! No, Ahren carried you into the shower and I cleaned you up, redressed your wounds, and put a spare pair of my scrubs on you. Then he carried you in here before he left.”

“Thank you.” I replied, barely above a whisper. I couldn’t remember the last time I had thanked someone that wasn’t part of a cover.

An awkward silence settled between us, neither of us having any idea what to say.

The door popped open with a sharp click, and the rhythmic clicking of claws on the hardwood floor mingled with the soft padding of paws as a sleek, black Doberman stepped inside.

His nose worked back and forth across the floor, tracking a scent, sniffing Larissa before pushing aside the blankets and resting beneath my leg, his eyes glued to mine expectantly.

I held my hands out for him to sniff. “See, I don’t have anything.”

He sniffed my fingers with a whine, sneezing his disapproval before turning and sauntering out the door with the same easy pace he’d entered.

This time, when our eyes met, Larissa’s half smirk had morphed into a full-blown smile.

I barked out a laugh. “Ok. But you can’t tell Rossdale.” I started.

Her laugh echoed my own, and she nodded rapidly, crossing her fingers across her heart.

“I make these liver treats that dogs can’t resist and sneak them each a handful when I come to deliver my—tributes.” I rushed out.

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