Page 35 of Chained
“Yes, sir.” At first they hadn’t even let him see Terry, but apparently Terry had asked for him during one of his brief periods of consciousness and became upset when Edge wasn’t there. Edge would have been willing to sleep on the floor, but they’d given him his own bed and comfortable clothes. He had plenty of food too, and it was far better than the monotonous fare the boss had provided. The nurses told him he could watch the TV in the room as long as he kept the volume down.
“You can send a message to me if you need anything,” the chief said. “But are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait with your brothers? We’ve set up a nice little house for them while they decide on their future.”
Edge already knew that, because Duke and Holt had visited him briefly twice and reported that they were safe and comfortable, if a little overwhelmed. Edge hadn’t been able to find the words to thank them for their commitment to him, an allegiance he still found astounding. He was profoundly grateful, but maybe they knew that. Through gestures and a few words, they made it clear that they loved him.
“I want to stay here, sir.”
“All right. We’ll have a discussion later, the three of us.” The chief clapped his hat back on and left the room.
Edge paced, full of energy that he couldn’t expend. He would have loved a long, hard run, but he was a little afraid he’d get lost if he left the hospital alone, and anyway, he didn’t dare leave Terry’s side. That left little to occupy him. The nurses had offered books, and he’d ashamedly admitted he could barely read. Literacy hadn’t been deemed an important part of his training. They brought him magazines instead, with glossy photos of food and faraway places, and those were fun to look at for a little while. He avoided the magazines about celebrities. He recognized too many of them—those handsome faces with their blank eyes—from the boss’s parties.
Blank eyes like Terry would have when he fully awoke.
Edge didn’t want to think about that. He’d remain with Terry anyway, but he dreaded finding out just how much of Terry’s life force had been stolen. He’d been so vibrant, so interesting and deep and unique. The only solace was the memory of the boss’s flesh ripping beneath Edge’s teeth, of his bones crunching, ofhiscorrupted life bleeding away onto the pavement.
After a few more circuits of the room, Edge turned on the TV. He didn’t often watch it. When he was in dog form, the moving pictures looked strange, and when he was in human form, the stories confused him. Not to mention the additional victims of the boss who kept popping up on the screen, playing their parts, grinning their soulless grins.
Now he flipped through the channels in search of distraction. He stopped when he came across a program where several people were singing while driving down the road in a big convertible. The car stopped at a building, the people got out, and then they were inside with a lot of other people, singing and dancing. Edge swayed to the beat.
“Bang.”
Edge whirled around to discover Terry with his eyes open, smiling widely and tapping his fingers. Edge raced to his side.
“Good song.” Terry’s voice was weak and raspy, but his words were clear.
Edge tentatively reached out and touched his fingers to Terry’s cheek. “Hello,” was all he could manage.
“Hi.” Terry took a deep breath and winced. “Bureau clinic?”
“I… I think.”
“Yeah. They’ve patched me up here before. I recognize the ugly walls.” He caught Edge’s hand and held it. “You’re okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Your brothers?”
“Also fine.”
“Is the Bureau being decent to you?”
“Yes.” Edge shook his head impatiently. “You! You made him shoot you instead of me.”
“I guess I did.” Terry peered down at himself, but he was covered in blankets. “Where’d he get me? The gut?”
“Yes. Three times.”
“Huh. I thought just twice.” He shifted slightly, wincing again. “God, I hate this place. How long until they spring me?”
“Don’t know. But you—you saved me! Why?”
Terry smiled at him. “Because I’m falling in love with you. Maybe I’ve already fallen—I don’t know. But I know I don’t want to live if you don’t.”
“You’re mine,” Edge whispered.
“If you want me. I’m not exactly in mint-in-box shape.”
Although Edge didn’t understand that reference, he got the general idea—and he was certain of his feelings on the matter. “I want you. Please.”
