Page 24 of Wicked Games

Carefully, I pick up the tray. The waters and thermos wobble precariously, but I manage to set it on my lap without spilling anything.

After uncapping one of the waters, I lift the bottle to my lips and take a tentative sip. It’s cool, but not cold, and the relief is instant as it slides down my throat, soothing the ache still lingering from last night.

When I’ve had a few more sips, I cap the water to make sure I don’t make a mess in my bed and pick up a slice of warm toast. I take a cautious bite, prepared to spit it out if my stomach revolts.

It doesn’t, and I take another bite as I peek into the bag. Inside is an assortment of snacks, including a granola bar, a few different brands of protein bars, an apple, a bag of mixed nuts, and a wrapped pastry.

Curiously, I pull the pastry out. It’s a date square from the dining hall.

I stare at it, not quite sure what to think. The date squares are the only desserts I eat here, but that’s a me thing, not a measure of the cooking talents of the house chefs. I’ve never been big on sweets, and I hate the taste of chocolate, but date squares are one of the few desserts I’ve enjoyed since I was a kid.

Shaking my head, I put it back in the bag. It’s a coincidence. The squares are a staple at the dining hall and one of the only desserts they make that’s portable. It’s only in the bag because it’s easy, not because anyone knows they’re my favorite.

The last thing I check is the thermos, and instead of the coffee I’m expecting, I find soup. Or at least broth.

I pour a little into the silver cup of the thermos and take a sip. The broth is thin and plain looking, but it’s warm and savory, and a burst of salt and spices fills my senses along with a sense of comfort as the warm liquid helps coat my sore throat.

It’s bone broth.

Does Killian know I like to drink bone broth instead of coffee in the mornings? Or is this another coincidence and whoever made the tray added it because soup is a normal thing to give someone who’s sick or injured?

Rolling my eyes at myself, I take another sip of the broth. It’s not like Killian put this tray together or had any hand in it other than telling William to bring it to me. Nothing on the tray means anything, and I need to stop looking for things that aren’t there.

I’m just finishing up the toast when the door swings open and Killian walks in.

“You’re still alive,” he comments and sweeps his eyes over me like he’s checking to make sure I’m still in one piece.

“For now, I am. Thanks.” I point at the tray.

He shrugs. “What happened to your bag?”

“My bag?”

“Last night. You had your bag when you went to the pool, but not when you left.”

“I don’t know. It was gone when I finally got the lights on.”

“But they left your clothes?”

I nod. “They weren’t in the bag, so maybe that’s why?”

“Could be. What was in it?” He comes to stand next to my bed.

“Not a lot. My phone, a spare towel, my earbuds, and a notebook,” I say, mentally rummaging through the bag.

“Not your ID or your keys?”

I shake my head. “They were in my shorts.”

He hums thoughtfully.

“Do you think that’s why they took my bag?” I ask. “Because they were after my ID?”

“It makes sense. If they had your ID and phone, then you would have been stuck in the pool until someone noticed you were missing and went looking for you. Did you see them go toward the chairs before the lights went off?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t see much of anything. I was too busy trying not to drown.”

He nods, looking big and intimidating as he looms over me.

---