Page 33 of King
“No hospitals.”
He pulls out his phone again. I sit back in the seat while he talks to who I assume is King letting him know we’re on the way back, and that I’m fine, but he’s going to need a doctor. His breathing isn’t the best and his skin is getting paler by the minute.
“I promise, she’s fine, King,” Tongue says.
“But you’re not!” I say loud enough so King can hear. “David, you need to hurry up, he’s not doing good.”
David looks over at Tongue, then looks back at the road. He goes faster.
Tongue sighs but doesn’t say anything else, before ending the call. He tosses the phone onto the dash, then grips his side. The grimace on his face solidifies that he’s not fine. You can see the hole from the bullet in his leather vest, and now his fingers are covered in his blood.
Sirens in the distance are getting a little too close for comfort. I look out the broken rear window, but I don’t see any blue lights behind us or any other suspicious vehicles or anymore motorcycles. I let out a deep breath. I don’t believe this has anything to do with Matteo, but why did they attack us?
“Who were those guys?”
I don’t expect either of them to answer. And they don’t just as I expected. They only look at each other before going back to surveying our surroundings until we pull up to the clubhouse. Just over an hour ago, I had been so ready to leave this place and now I can’t believe the relief encompassing me at seeing it again.
The reality of the situation hits me. I’m lucky I’m alive. We all are.
“We could have died.”
I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. I shouldn’t be here. None of us should.
David parks the car and kills the engine. He gazes in the mirror, his eyes full of worry.
I’ve come to learn a lot about him during these past few weeks. How he believes he’s the biggest disappointment to his family, especially his father, because he decided to go off on his own and throw away the opportunities his father’s name provided for him, which also led him down a road of crime and eventually to the Sinners. But he’s young and everyone makes mistakes. He’s an amazing kid even if he doesn’t realize it yet. Empathy isn’t something a lot of people have, but David is one of those people. I hope this lifestyle doesn’t change him too much.
“Alana…”
Someone calls my name but it’s like I’m stuck. I can’t move. I’m not only scared shitless about what happened, but I’m also scared of what can happen in the future. My nails dig into the soft leather of the SUV, the pain from the shards of glass cutting my fingers.
“Sweetheart, it’s Dylan.” I look at him and tears fill my eyes, my watery gaze not distorting how beautiful he is. “Can you come inside?”
“We could’ve died.”
“But you didn’t.” He reaches out his hand. “Come inside for me. Let’s get your cuts looked at.”
Without hesitation, I grasp his hand. My blood coats his skin. But he doesn’t care, he helps me out of the car. I can barely walk my legs are shaking so badly. He pulls me closer to his frame, supporting my trembling body as we walk into the clubhouse. The warmth of his body seeps into my bones. I try my best to ignore the stares from everyone, the concern on their faces. They should be more concerned with Tongue than me.
“Tongue’s hurt really bad, Dylan. He needs help.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got a doctor looking after him.”
Relief moves through me. I’ve come to look at most of these guys as friends. I don’t want any of them hurt because of me.
I nod just as Reaper walks up to King and whispers something in his ear. He doesn’t stop to talk but his jaw clenches. Anger washes over his features. He doesn’t say anything back to him, he just ushers me upstairs.
“I’m fine, Dylan.” I lie even though I’m not fine. “Take care of what you need to take care of.”
I don’t think I’ll ever be fine after this. I’ve been in some dangerous situations, including a similar situation with Matteo. I don’t know what makes this time so different, but it is.
My legs are still trembling. The only reason I haven’t collapsed is because of Dylan. And the only thing going through my mind is that I never would’ve seen Amelia again and believe it or not, the thought of never seeing Dylan again also weighs heavy on me.
Maybe that’s why this time is so different.
He doesn’t respond just tightens his embrace.
We make it to the top of the stairs but instead of going to my room, he goes to the room he uses when he’s here. I’m so out of it, I can’t protest. And I don’t think I even want to. I feel safe and protected in his embrace. Not a good thing for my heart, but I don’t even care at this moment.
