Page 89 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)

Parker and Jake burst into the room.

She pulls my hair away from my face and rubs my back. “What the heck did you see?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“It must’ve been something disturbing,” she pries.

I wipe my mouth and straighten, narrowing my eyes. She’s the one who gave me the envelope. Who insisted I open it. Who came to Emery-Rose about the same time I started feeling watched all the time.

I take a step back.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

I’m not sure why I’m suspicious, but I trust my gut. And right now, it’s screaming to not say anything.

Dad’s a lawyer. He can help me.

I rush back to the first floor and the glass walkway, then freeze. I have that sensation of being watched again—but this time, I don’t think it’s my imagination. The lights of the walkway bounce against the glass, hiding anyone who might be lurking in the dark. They could be in plain sight, and all I would see is my own reflection.

Someone is out there.

And you know what?

I’m sick of this feeling.

I raise both of my hands, flipping off whoever’s watching.

But in the pit of my stomach, I know I’ll probably end up paying for that.

22

Riley

Dad comes back into the waiting room shortly after I sneak back in, no apparent worry or relief on his face—which means he didn’t notice me leave. I’m not sure I like that.

It means I could disappear, and by the time he realized…

“We can go see him,” he says to me.

I shake out my arms and follow him. We go back into the hospital, and I shake my head. Of course they would’ve admitted him immediately—why were we even waiting in the emergency department?

And then I notice how rigid Dad is, and it hits me: this is hurting him, too.

I hurry to catch up to him and slip my hand in his. He glances at me and squeezes my hand.

“He’s okay,” he says.

“I know. But this place is hard to be in.” I’m just telling him what he’s already feeling.

He sighs. “Yeah. Sooner we can get Noah home, the better.”

It doesn’t take long to find his room. This hospital can be tricky to navigate, but Mom and I used to explore it when she had the energy. There’s a pool for physical therapy, the computer lab, a rooftop garden.

A doctor is leaving Noah’s room as we approach, and he pauses to wait for us. “He’s stable. We did have to call the police and report it. They’ll be by soon to take a statement.”

Dad nods. “Thank you.”

The doctor motions for Dad to step away from the door, and I take the opportunity to slip into the room. It’s dark except for a bedside lamp and the flicker of a muted television.

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