Page 4 of Discover Me
"Not mine. It's not my blood."
A paramedic slips through the door behind the officer, a younger guy who seems more worried about me than I do. His gaze walks over me several times before darting to where Tom is holding me up. His brows furrow a little before he gestures to one of the seats by the couch. “Help him sit and then step back. He's in shock. I need to assess him before any questioning happens."
"He'sfine," Tom argues, letting out an annoyed huff. He drops me into the seat, standing way too close for comfort. "Just shaken up. We have a schedule to maintain, a meet and greet in less than an hour that people have paid good money for."
"Step back, sir." The paramedic's voice is firmer now. There’s no fear in his eyes as he speaks to my manager, and thank fuck for that. We need more people in this world to talk to Tom likethat. "I need to check for injuries and help him manage the shock response."
Tom grumbles something but moves away to stand with Rex and the others. They're all watching me, and I hate it. I hate being the center of attention like this, hate the way they're looking at me like I might break. It’s so much easier when I’m on stage, lost in the music and the rhythm, hidden by my instruments.
Something shifts in front of me, the small Beta crouching in front of me. "Hey, Kellan, right? I'm Marcus." His voice is oddly soothing but I can’t focus on anything more than my hands. I open my palms, my heart sinking into my stomach. There’s so much fucking blood. "I need you to take some deep breaths for me, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth."
I try, but my breathing is coming too fast. My chest feels tight, like there's a band wrapped around my ribs. The room is too warm, too small, and too full of people. I usually find solace around my bandmates, but right now, the myriad of scents feels like it’s suffocating me. Still, I try, finding a bit of relief.
"That's it," Marcus coaches, his hand on my shoulder. "Just like that. In for four, hold for four, out for four. Match my breathing."
I watch his chest rise and fall, trying to sync my own breathing to his rhythm. It takes a few attempts, but gradually the tightness eases. My hands are still shaking, trembling so badly I have to clench them into fists, but at least I can breathe.
"Good," Marcus says, pulling out a penlight to check my pupils. "You're doing good. Any pain anywhere? Did you get hurt in the fall?"
"I didn't fall. He did." The Beta's face flashes in my mind, the way he looked up at me with those dark eyes, the small smile that didn't make sense, the trust in his expression... "I just saw him fall and ran over to help."
The officer steps closer, the asshole already posed with a notebook and a pen like this is just some routine investigation. “Son, my name is Detective Morrison. Can you tell me what happened? Start from the beginning and take your time."
I close my eyes, trying to organize the memories. "I was coming back from getting coffee. Heard shouting, looked up and saw the ladder shaking. There were two Alphas at the bottom, messing with it while that Beta was trying to climb down. They just kept shaking the ladder." I open my eyes, meeting the officer’s gaze. "They kept shaking it even when he was clearly scared and asking them to stop. Then the ladder came off the roof completely and he fell."
The officer scratches down my description of the event. "Can you describe these Alphas for me?"
I try to picture them, but it's all a blur. Everything happened so fast. "Big guys. Burly. Both of them were wearing jeans, I think? One had a red shirt, or maybe it was blue. I don't know. I wasn't really paying attention to them once I saw him fall."
"That's okay," Morrison says. "What happened after he fell?"
"I ran over to him. He was just lying there, not moving, and there was so much blood." My voice shakes, the words coming out all wobbly. "The two Alphas took off running when they realized how badly he was hurt. I didn't chase them. Maybe I should have? But I couldn’t leave him."
"There's a large gash across his chest," Morrison says, watching me carefully. "From his neck down to his stomach. Can you tell me about that?"
"What?" I look up sharply, wondering if Morrison thinks it was me. "No, when I got to him it was already there. He must have caught himself on something when he fell. Piece of metal, maybe? I don't know."
Morrison makes another note. "I'm not suggesting you caused it. I just need to get all the details for my report.”
“Is he going to be alright?"
Morrison's face softens slightly. "I have no idea, son, but that kid is pretty sturdy. I know his family, knew his father before he passed. Micah's got Davis blood in him. They're tough."
Micah. The Beta's name is Micah.
"Can you describe the Alphas in any more detail?" Morrison continues. "Hair color? Height? Any distinguishing features?"
I hold up my hands to answer, the stiffness in my fingers and the dried blood making my stomach lurch one last time.Yeah, no, fuck this."Excuse me," I manage, shoving up from the chair and stumbling toward the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet before I start heaving.
When the retching finally subsides, I slump against the wall, my breathing coming in small pants, sweat beading across my forehead. I force myself to stand and make my way to the sink, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror. Blood is smeared across my cheek, dried in streaks down my neck. My whole outfit needs to be burned but it's my eyes that catch me. Wide and slightly wild, rimmed with red. I look scared in a way I haven't looked since I was a kid.
He better be okay,I tell myself, although I don’t know why I’m so pressed about it.
I turn on the water and start scrubbing at my hands, watching the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain. It takes several attempts to get my hands clean. I wash my face next, careful around my piercings, watching Micah's blood disappear into the sink.
My shirt comes off next, peeling away from my skin where the blood has made it stick. I'm just standing there in my jeans and boots when I realize I can't go back out there like this. I can't face the questions and Tom's inevitable pivot to how this affects our image. Tom can fix whatever he needs to out there while I drown myself in steam and lose myself in my thoughts.
It’s better for everyone that way, anyway. After all, I’m the fucking problem child, the lone wolf Alpha ofLunar Ransom.It fits my entire image if I just refuse to answer any more questions. Unfortunately, I’ve barely just flicked the shower knob on when the bathroom door flies open, Tom walking in, his phone already out. He doesn't even look up as he starts talking.
