Page 137 of Corpse Roads

“We all flew back here last night. You were shot, princess. You’re lucky it went straight through your thigh. No surgery required.”

She tests her arm, the wet plaster cut away and replaced with a brace now that the fracture has healed.

“Diablo?”

I stare at the wall, silent.

“Leigh? Please talk to me.”

“Enzo dealt with him,” I answer emotionlessly. “The rest of his men are being rounded up by another team as we speak.”

“He’s… dead?”

“Yeah. Look, I should go. You need to rest and get better.”

As I turn to leave the room, my heart seizing painfully, her high-pitched voice stops me in my tracks.

“Please,” she whimpers. “Don’t go.”

“Harlow… I can’t stay.”

The soft, agonising sound of her crying knifes me straight in the gut. She may as well cut my heart from my chest and crush it. That would hurt less.

With every instinct screaming at me to walk away, I turn around and return to her bedside. The moment I’m close enough, she grabs a handful of my t-shirt in a death grip.

“Stay,” she insists.

“The others… it should be them here, not me.” I dare to meet her tear-logged eyes. “I trusted Diablo, and he hurt you.”

Pulling me closer, the needle taped to her pale skin pulls taut. I peel her hand from my t-shirt before she hurts herself.

“None of this would’ve happened if I didn’t let Diablo get close.” I stroke her bluish veins. “I allowed him to manipulate me.”

“Nobody allows anyone to manipulate them,” Harlow whispers. “You wanted a friend. There’s no harm in that.”

“Well, my desperate fucking need to feel less alone put you in danger. All for what? A drinking buddy?”

“Leigh, stop.”

“No. I don’t even deserve to be in this room with you.”

Gritting her teeth, Harlow wrestles aside wires and IV lines to free up a space next to her on the mattress. She pins me with a fiery look.

“Get in. No more arguments.”

My heart threatens to shatter and slice us both to shreds. All I want is to feel her warmth wrapped around me, to be whole and content. She’s reminded me of what it means to belong to someone.

Too bone tired to fight for a single second longer, I slide into the empty spot. Harlow burrows closer, her nose nudging against mine.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, our lips a breath apart. “I never should’ve run. It was stupid and reckless.”

I stroke her matted hair. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for. Apart from drooling on Hunter while unconscious, I suppose.”

“What?”

“You ruined his favourite shirt.”

“You’re kidding?” Her voice rises.

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