Chapter Thirty One
My knee hurt.
It was my first coherent thought when I came to.
When the fog in my head cleared some more, that first coherent thought evolved. And went something like this: My knee burned and itched and ached and stung simultaneously, and God help me the more conscious I became, the more the pain intensified.
Going by the way the gash was still leaking merrily and the blood on my ripped jeans had yet to dry, I surmised I'd only blacked out for a couple of minutes. Which was nothing short of a miracle.
Desks weren't made for breaking falls, and the one that had crashed through the hole in the second floor before I'd followed it through and landed on top of it hadn't exactly done a bang up job of cushioning me. More like It'd snapped into several pieces on impact.
I didn't know whether to be relieved or astounded that I was still capable of any kind of brain function after an experience like that. A bit of both, I decided. And since I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth and start with all the how's and why's, I simply sent out a mental thanks to whoever might have been listening, and tried to sit up.
Wow, okay, yeah, totally not a smart idea. Everything spoke up at once. My neck, my back, one of my elbows, that damned knee. I was almost convinced my eyelashes were in extreme agony as well.
"Still thankful you're not dead?" I muttered to myself, and ignored the aches and jolts in favour of pushing a piece of plywood off my stomach. It landed with a hollow thwack on the ground beside me and a cloud of dust rose in its wake.
Coughing, I glanced up to where I'd been hanging a short while ago. It wasn't so dark that I couldn't tell there was a hole in the floor above me, but it was hard to distinguish any of the smaller details, like say, if there were any human beings hanging their heads in the gap to see where I was and if I was still breathing.
"Justice," I called, and my voice came out as a hoarse croak.
Nothing.
I tried again, this time louder. Still nothing.
My stomach tightened with dread. Where was he? If he'd been able to, he would have replied. Hell, he probably would have jumped through the hole after me instead of taking the stairs. So if he wasn't answering and he wasn't already by my side, what did that mean?
Okay, don't panic, I told myself when my breathing started to increase rapidly and my palms broke out into a cold sweat.
"He's fine. He's okay. He's fine," I whispered, forcing myself to roll over onto my stomach. Yeah, right. He was just fine, was he? Then why were my eyes leaking? And why did my heart feel like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it?
My hands stung as they took the brunt of my weight; they were riddled with splinters and cuts, and I had a bad feeling I'd re-broken my fingers. I pushed myself up with a groan and staggered across the debris of the desk until I was standing on flat ground.
Not that I could make out the hard surface beneath me. I might as well have been walking around with my eyes shut for all the lighting there was to go by.
I shuffled to my left and my good knee came up against something solid, nearly toppling me right over. Moving backwards didn't help either. All I did was trample something made of glass; the crunch was unmistakeable.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered, and retrieved the knife I had tucked in my boot.
I had no idea where the gun had gone to. When the floor caved in, I'd kind of lost everything that wasn't already anchored to my body. Still, the knife would be fine for what I intended. Turning on the spot, I faced what I hoped were a bank of windows; if I'd still been one floor up I would have been facing them , so it stood to reason the layout would be the same down here.
What the hell, if I was wrong, I'd be the only witness to my moment of idiocy. Palming the blade left handed, I took aim and threw it as hard as I could.
Success.
The sound of shattering glass was like music to my ears, and quickly brought with it blessed light by way of street lamps outside. The room instantly came into focus, shadows throwing themselves across it and giving me some bearing.
Unfortunately, my stunt also awarded me some unwanted attention. Indecipherable chatter came from above, and I stumbled backwards when a desk lamp came flying at me and landed right where I'd been standing. Someone must have kicked it over the edge. With my back against a partial wall, I held my breath and waited.
Until I heard the loud thwack of footsteps making their way across the room at a brisk pace.
"Oh, shit," I breathed, knowing exactly where they were heading. For the staircase. Which meant I couldn't drag myself over there and use it to get to the ground floor without encountering whoever it was that was coming to meet me. Great. No staircase equalled no way out. And really that equation just amounted to a whole lot of I'm-so-screwed.
Heartbeat thudding madly in my chest, I looked around for a place to hide. It was an open plan room with pretty much the same set up as the floor above it. There were half a dozen desks I could hide under, a couple of partial walls I could duck behind.
Footsteps were getting louder and the echo told me they were already in the stairwell and well on their way to discovering me, still standing immobile like the imbecile I was.
"Think, dammit. What would Kalen do?" I whispered, and resisted the urge to thump myself on the head.
Of course, in this situation, my brother would no doubt head straight towards the impending doom, sure enough of himself that the fact they were armed and dangerous wouldn't even phase him.
Well, it phased me, and I wasn't about to give them an easy win. Out of time and out of options, I crouched low against the partial wall I was already leaning against just as a door across the room with an exit sign above it burst open and two of the men who'd been on rooftop strode in.
The taller, leaner of the two was Julio, the guy who'd searched me earlier. Even if I hadn't been able to make out his features, I would have known by the way he carried himself. Confidently, but with an air of caution about him rather than the arrogant swagger most of the others had donned. His gun was leading him, braced in both hands and held steady.
The guy behind him might as well have been walking into a magazine store for all the attention he was giving everything around him. He wasn't carrying anything in his hands, which were in his pockets. His gun was tucked down the front of his jeans. Within easy reach, but it still told me he didn't consider me a threat at all.
Julio whispered something in Spanish as his eyes swept over the room, and courtesy of the desk in front of me I knew he'd have to walk at least six feet before he caught sight of me huddled behind it up against the wall.
I didn't understand a word he said, but I did get a name. The swaggering asshole was Andre.
"It's not like I'm gonna need it," Andre grumbled, and the two edged closer to where I was. "Chica's no Charlie's Angel. What's she gonna do, scream at me?"
"You'll find out when we find her, won't you?" Julio snapped back.
Silently as I could, I leaned sideways to pick up a large sliver of glass. It was quite hefty and thick, and a good six inches long. Providing it didn't break on me, it was the best weapon I had for the moment.
Moving around the wall to avoid being detected proved a harder mission than I thought. The ragged gash in my shin screamed in protest when I put all of my weight on it to duck-walk around the low wall. It didn't help that I had to step carefully to miss the broken glass that littered the floor.
It was all I could do not to pant from the exertion and the pain I was in. My mind seemed to be urging me on, but the way my body trembled suggested what my mind wanted wouldn't mean shit soon enough. I was nearly all the way around the wall when I lost my balance and careened sideways. I put my hand out to steady myself, and it came straight down on a piece of glass that wasn't quite sitting flush with the ground.
Crack!
A whimper escaped me, both at the damning noise and the way my freshly broken fingers erupted in agony. Andre was in the middle of saying something when Julio froze and shushed him savagely.
"What?" Andre snapped.
But Julio didn't reply. I'd barely rounded the wall when his eyes zeroed in on where I'd been crouched, and the steady rhythm of his feet told me he was heading right this way, and that he was certain I was here.
So terrified I was shaking, I took a quiet, steadying breath and glanced skyward. I sent out a mental plea.
Okay, Kalen, I need you. Now more than ever. Help me out. What do I do?
"Please," I mouthed silently, but it was no use.
I was alone in this, and the only answers I was going to get were the ones I gave myself. It could only end two ways at this point. One, I would die very soon in a rotting, abandoned factory-turned-office-building. Or two, I'd somehow, miraculously come out on top.
Option one was the realistic of the two, but that didn't mean I was about to round the corner with my hands up to let them shoot me. No, if I was going to die, I was going to die fighting.
Clutching the sliver of glass more securely in my hand, I planted my feet and relaxed into a steady stance. Took in another slow, measured breath as I heard debris crunch with every step they took. My hearing told me they were closing in fast and sure. More crunching and I knew nothing more than three inches of wall separated us. They were on the other side. So close I could hear one of them breathing through his nose.
"This is stupid," Andre hissed, and I nearly jumped at how loud his voice was. It almost felt like he was speaking directly into my ear. "I say we just light the whole fucking building on fire and let the bitch burn."
"She's bleeding," Julio said, ignoring Andre's comments. Yes, she was, I thought sardonically. And she wasn't too pleased about that. I'd bled enough in the last few weeks to last me a life time. Safe to say the blood banks would get nothing out of me if I lived to see tomorrow.
Julio shifted, standing on the same chunk of glass that had given me away, and adrenaline spiked through me hard enough to make me light headed. I knew where he was standing. The end of his gun came into sight; I could have reached out with my hand to touch it. And then I knew. This was it. The best chance I'd have.
"She can't have gone far, and now she's just given us a trail to follow. We should split up and -"
He never got the chance to finish his sentence because I flew into motion, running on instinct more than anything. Fear was running rampant inside of me, followed by a profound potent rage. I closed my fingers around the barrel of the gun and forced it down. In the same instant I let my momentum swing me around, the sliver of glass clutched so tightly it was cutting into my hand.
The jagged edge buried itself into Julio's side before anyone could react, and with an infuriated scream, I snapped it off. Keeping a firm hold of his gun, I brought my good leg up and kicked him as hard as I could in the chest. I thanked everyone I could think of when he let go of it and flew backwards, falling over the desk to land in an ungainly heap on the ground.
Wasting no time marvelling over what I'd accomplished, I spun on Andre, who'd circled around so he was in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Cursing and fumbling with his weapon, it occurred to me he was having trouble switching the safety off and that was the only reason I was still breathing. Dumb luck on my part, at least for the moment.
I brought Julio's gun up, horrified at myself and wishing there was another way even as I pulled the trigger. Andre dropped to the floor, but not because I'd shot him. Julio's gun wasn't like anything Justice or Samson had shown me how to use, and I didn't know what I wasn't doing right. All I knew was the stupid thing didn't fire.
"No," I groaned, and then heard nothing over my pounding heart as Andre laughed. Then he straightened and spoke.
"Well, then chica, why don't you scream for me?"
Fuck it.
"You first, asshole."
I threw the gun at him and he flung his hands up, clearly surprised. Taking advantage, I ran at him and shoved him with everything I had. The last thing I saw before he went out the window were his eyes, wide with the knowledge that if the fall didn't kill him, he'd be wishing it had. And then he was gone, the tinkling of the shattered glass a sound that would haunt me forever, along with that gaze and his high pitched scream.
A noise from behind me snagged my attention and I spun on my heel. Let out a defeated sigh at the sight that greeted me.
Julio was back on his feet. I should have known he'd have more than one weapon. He was hunched over himself a little, and his face was contorted in pain.
I was out of tricks. Out of stupid ideas. And I may have very well just killed somebody. Funnily enough, that last thought didn't disturb me as much as I thought it would. Maybe if he hadn't been trying to shoot me dead I might have felt a little remorse.
Instead, I threw my hands up beside my head in a frustrated gesture, and finally managed to sniff in an effort to alleviate my running nose. It had been bugging the crap out of me for the last ten minutes!
"Whatever," I said, speaking first, a little bewildered he hadn't already just offed me. "I'm done. So you can go ahead."
Julio's eyebrows shot sky high, but I didn't have it in me to explain it to him. To tell him that there was only so much more I could do. I had no idea where Justice was. If he was dead or alive. If he was dead, I didn't want to live to find that out. If he was alive, all I could do was hope he'd understand that I hadn't given up without a fight.
No, I'd fought my hardest, but some battles just weren't meant to be won. And if I had to die tonight, at least I'd die knowing my brothers and sisters would live for tomorrow. They'd live for me, because I couldn't. And that in itself was enough.
"You know what, I'm done too."
It took me several moments to comprehend the words that came out of Julio's mouth. Even when he lowered his gun and relaxed his stance, I stood there like an idiot gaping at him. When he offered no further explanation, I opened my mouth. Had no idea what I was going to say, and snapped it closed again.
"Is this a joke?" I finally asked, afraid he'd say yes and then BANG! I'd be dead.
He tucked the gun into the back of his jeans and shook his head. His face had lost a lot of colour.
"No joke. This whole thing is just loco." He gestured at me and I flinched in anticipation of...well, something, but nothing happened. "I mean, Callahan's got us running around after you. Easy job, he says. Won't tell us why you've gotta die. All he says is you're a huge threat to all of us. And then I see you on the roof and all I can think is, this is wrong."
He paused to take off his jacket. He was wearing a long sleeved tee under that and he removed it as well. Albeit rather carefully thanks to the wound in his side from the glass I'd embedded there. Slipping a knife out of his pants pocket, I watched as he shredded his shirt into long strips. My mouth formed a tiny O of confusion. Over his actions. Over his speech. Over everything, but mainly over the fact I was still breathing.
"And now I just watched you kill someone. Not because you're malicious, or a huge threat as we've been told. But because you're a survivor, and because you have the right to defend yourself."
He dropped the strips on the ground in front of him, and replaced his jacket. Then attempted a laugh and winced, cradling his side. "Not to mention you just handed me my ass. Hate the element of surprise when it's not working in my favour. Anyway, like I said, I'm done. One, I don't get paid enough for this shit. And two, I'm not gonna kill you, anyway. You've more than earned the right to live as far as I'm concerned."
He nodded at his shredded shirt on the ground between us. "For your leg. Oh, and two of Cordero's guys dragged Montoya out of the building before we were told to come in and search for you. I don't know where they took him to, but we're under orders not to kill him."
Relief hit me like a ton of bricks, so hard I actually sagged on the spot.
And then Julio turned his back on me and headed for the stairwell. I didn't move as he opened the heavy metal door and disappeared. Hell, I waited for him to come back, maybe with some reinforcements so they could all take a group shot.
Nothing, except the faint patter of footsteps that sounded like they were heading up.
"What in the..."
Nope. Forget it. I wasn't about to question that. Remember the gift horse, I reminded myself. Just thank the fucking thing and move on. I could marvel over it later, perhaps years from now when I was certain it couldn't come back to bite me in the ass. Or shoot me in the ass as the case may be.
Still, I waited two excruciating minutes before I decided my chain wasn't being yanked. When blessed silence reigned supreme, I limped my way over to the strips of shirt he'd left and swiped them. The gash in my lower leg was bloodier than I'd originally thought. And bigger. It was about six inches long and one and a half wide. Just looking at the mess brought on a wave of nausea.
I swallowed a mouthful of bile and made quick work of binding my leg, a high pitched keening noise skating past my lips when I pulled the material tight. My hands were shaking unbelievably, and I didn't know whether it was from the physical trauma I'd sustained, the stress over what I'd done and the situation I was in, or if they were simply dancing spastically because of the cold.
But, in the end what did it matter? I regained a standing position, and gritted my teeth when every step made me wish I was weightless and floating on a cloud instead of feeling like I'd been weighed down with cement while traversing the fires of hell.
I needed to find Justice. And I needed to do it quickly and quietly. I didn't know how many of Callahan's men were still alive and where they were. I didn't know where Gin and the others were, and if they were okay. But Julio had said Justice wasn't dead. He'd also said he was in the hands of the enemy, but hey, I'd cross that bridge when I got to it.
Limping wasn't the best option, but forcing a more natural gait had my vision blinking in and out. Once outside, I noticed everything was eerily quiet. At least, initially. I limped my way around the side of the decrepit building until the CBK owned factory came into sight. From what I could see, nobody was on the roof anymore. Any way I looked, the coast was clear.
Indecision hit me as I paused. Did I go back into the factory to look for Justice? Or did I head a block over to where we'd parked to see if the others were there? Maybe they'd seen what had happened to him.
"Heads or tails," I murmured, biting my lip.
Heads it was.
I'd go to the cars. If nobody was there or they didn't know anything, I'd drag myself back here and search. I'd find him if it took me all night. That he'd probably ring my neck when I did find him was beside the point.
He'd stressed multiple times that if we were to get separated I was to leave any way I could and wait at our rendezvous spot. And then, if nobody else turned up after half an hour of waiting, I'd been told to take his car and drive off.
Yeah, right. Like that was happening. The man should have known me well enough to realise he was wasting his breath. Then again, maybe he did know, all too well, but had said it anyway to falsely comfort himself.
Keeping my back against the side of the building, I used it as cover, shuffling not towards the CBK factory, but away from it. I became so invested in putting one foot in front of the other, especially when I started to lose feeling in my injured leg, that it took me a moment to realise the night wasn't quite so silent anymore.
I froze four feet from the corner of the building and looked up. I could have sworn I'd just heard a familiar voice. My surroundings were pretty visible. There was a line of wilted, bare-branched trees off to my far right. Another factory directly in front of me. A cracked, torn up parking lot to the left. And around the corner, where I was headed, I knew there'd be a dirt path that wound around the deserted lot and created a short cut to where Justice's SUV and Gin and Sal's cars sat waiting.
I was about to put the strange noise down to my imagination when there was a cry, this one very distinctive.
"Henry!"
I glanced around wildly for the source of the voice. I knew it belonged to Alec. I could never mistake the gravel in his tone when he was upset or angry, which around me was most of the time. Movement out of the corner of my eye, and I snapped my head around in time to see him heading my way at a dead run.
Only, he wasn't watching where he was going. Probably had no idea I was even standing here. His focus was on the parking lot, where I could now make out two people about thirty feet away, involved in an impressive struggle. One of those people was Henry.
"Henry, quitarse del medio!"
I frowned. Why was Alec so frantic? From what I could see, Henry was holding his own. And why was he heading my way if his concern was for Henry? He cranked his head around, and instead of meeting my gaze, he was staring at something just over my shoulder with horror etched into his face. Something around the corner I couldn't see.
"No, no, no," he was screaming, and a bad feeling went through me a split second before I hauled myself over those last few feet and peeked around the corner.
Jesus Christ.
My stomach dropped and my heart leapt into my throat. Reed was crouched low by the building, levelling a gun in Henry's direction. In his free hand was a wicked serrated edged knife. A hungry smile curved his lips.
"Henry, you fucker!" Alec screamed, but Henry remained oblivious. He was winning his fight; the other guy, who I now recognised as Felix, fell to the ground and Henry kicked him while he was down. Once. Twice.
Time seemed to slow as the pieces fell into place. If I didn't do something, Reed would open fire on Henry, and most likely there would be a direct hit. Alec was too far away to help. He wouldn't make it to Henry or Reed before something happened. I was much closer, and even with my injured leg I could probably reach Reed before he pulled the trigger. Maybe.
Justice's stern warning came back to me. "Do whatever it takes to stay breathing."
Right now, that would mean letting Reed kill Henry. Like I could let that happen. The guy may not like me, but that was no reason to let him die.
It took less than a second for my resolve to set in. Then I was moving, ignoring the pain in my knee that threatened to knock me out cold.
Reed rested his finger on the trigger, and a burning desperation shot through me. Tears sprang to my eyes. Come on, Ioney, move faster! I would make this. Henry wasn't about to die tonight.
As if in challenge to my declaration, Henry straightened and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, presenting Reed with a prime target.
"God damn you, Henry!" I heard Alec shout as loud as he could. Henry spun, having finally heard his friend's cries, but he still had no idea how much danger he was in.
I was so close now I could see the satisfactory gleam in Reed's eyes. He knew he'd won.
"Ioney, no!"
I nearly fell over myself at hearing a voice that never failed to either soothe me or irritate the crap out of me. At the moment, it accomplished the former, and as I looked beyond where Reed was, I saw Justice emerge from the tree line edging the parking lot.
He was a mess, but I'd never been so happy to see him in my life. Since last I'd seen him, he'd torn the right sleeve of his shirt off to wrap his wound with it. Crimson coated his bare arm, sluicing down it to drip from his fingertips. He'd acquired a fresh gash over his brow that was leaking into one of his dark eyes, and if I wasn't mistaken, a pair of handcuffs was dangling from his good arm, one end secured to his wrist.
Reed jerked at the sound of Justice's voice and whipped his head around to see him approaching at a dead run. Some of the cockiness left his expression when he shifted to encompass me, and most likely Alec behind me, coming up on him as well. I was the nearest by far - Justice and Alec were both making good ground, but neither would reach Reed before I did.
When Reed redoubled his efforts on shooting Henry, I realised his intent. None of us were armed, from what I could tell. From what Reed could tell. He was going to take out Henry first, then round his weapon on us.
"No," I whispered, forcing myself to run even faster.
"IONEY, STOP!"
Justice's voice was full of anguish, but it was too late, and I wouldn't have obeyed anyway. Reed's finger tightened on the trigger and I screamed, crashing into him and tackling him football style.
The gun went off, so close to my ears they were left ringing.
We hit the ground hard enough to have the air crashing out of my lungs and momentum had us rolling several feet. Fire burned low in my stomach and I cried out from it, but didn't have the luxury of stopping to see what had happened.
Reed was on top of me, and his bare hands came down to close over my throat. A sinister growl left his lips, his brown eyes burning with fury. Weirdly enough, my first and only thought was of his gun. Where had it gone? Made sense to just shoot me, didn't it? Rather than muck around with things that took time and effort, like choking the life out of someone. And where had his wicked looking knife gone? Hadn't he been holding it earlier?
I made a feeble attempt at getting him off me. I might as well have been a fly taking on an elephant. It was useless. Not only was my air supply being cut off, making my throat ache and burn, but my strength was gone entirely. It was more work than it should have been to simply lift my arms, and Reed swatted them away with ease.
An intense pressure built up in my lungs. My eyes watered of their own accord. The acute pain in my stomach and the fire in my lower leg dulled, and though I knew that was a bad sign, I welcomed it nonetheless.
Try as I might, breathing just wasn't happening and in all honesty, I was losing the will to care. A slew of Spanish curse words assaulted my ears, but I was too light headed to figure them out, or guess at who was speaking. Noise was blending until it was a continuous buzzing that was at the same time annoying and comforting. Colour started leaching out of everything as the world titled violently.
Reed's smile was the only thing I could see clearly, and then -
And then it vanished, along with the rest of him.
There was a snap like a rubber band as everything came flooding back. First was the pain, which overrode the return of other things like hearing and vision. Or regaining the ability to inhale. I eventually took in a ragged breath and choked on it. Curled over onto my side as my whole body rebelled against the idea of any kind of movement.
Somewhere over my shoulder I could hear the sounds of a major scuffle. I needed to roll myself back over. Had to see who Reed was fighting. Was it Justice?
Alec dropped to his knees in front of me, bringing with him the certainty that it was indeed Justice, and my stomach shrunk with dismay.
It took me a second to comprehend Alec was speaking.
"- crazy. You are unbelievably fucking stupid!" he was yelling. His eyes and nose were leaking, and the relief dancing across his angular face was palpable. "If we weren't in the middle of such a mess, I would probably kiss you. Or kill you myself." He grasped one of my hands tightly in his and brought it to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "Niña hermosa, you saved Henry. Muchas gracias."
Ah, so Henry was fine. That was good to know.
"Help me up," I rasped. I needed to see Justice, to know that he was okay.
I half expected him to refuse, but no sooner had the words left my mouth than he had hold of me under the arms, dragging me to my feet. I swayed dangerously on the spot, standing on legs so weak my knees were knocking together. Alec wrapped his fingers around my elbow to steady me, and just as I started to list to the other side, Henry came out of nowhere to help. He was extremely out of breath and was sporting a blood nose among other minor injuries.
"You look like shit," I managed to get out, bracing myself against his shoulder.
Despite everything, he smirked at me. "You must be looking in the mirror then," he commented, giving my face a quick once over.
They started to steer me away from the fight raging behind us but I struggled until I was turned and could see what was going on.
If I hadn't been worried out of my mind, I would have been impressed. Even injured as he was, Justice Montoya was a sight to behold. He was also more pissed off than I'd ever seen him as he and Reed circled each other, each wielding a large knife.
Reed should have had the advantage. Not only was he slightly taller and broader than Justice, but he wasn't shot and bleeding profusely either. Then again, Reed hadn't been double crossed by his own gang and didn't have people out to hurt the ones he cared about. That in itself was generally motivation enough to kick some serious ass.
As Justice so aptly proved when Reed lunged at him with an enraged cry. Neatly sidestepping the thrust of Reed's blade, he grabbed him by that arm, and twisted viciously.
The snap of bone and the ensuing strangled bellow were enough to increase my ragged breathing and have the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Hair slicked back from his bloodied face, eyes bright with pain and cruel intent, Justice curled his teeth back from his lips and twisted some more. Reed screamed louder still, and dropped the blade. Far from satisfied, Justice forced him to the ground, onto his knees, and used his hair to yank his head backwards. Heedless of the fact he was impressively injured, he used his bad arm to hold Reed in place, and punched him with his good one. Again, and again, and again.
"Mercer," Alec murmured, and I glanced sideways at him. "Are you okay?"
There was an odd note to his voice, and I frowned. Why was he asking me that? I felt...
"Fuck! Henry," Alec snapped as my legs gave out and he tried to catch me. I must have been so much dead weight because he couldn't regain his balance and we both ended up on the ground, with him cushioning my fall.
I tried to get up, but a feeling of lethargy washed over me and it was all I could do to keep my eyes open. Alec shifted, laying me more comfortably against him, and Henry hovered over me. My breathing was shallow and erratic, and when I spoke, the words came out jumbled together. Not even I understood what I was saying.
What the hell was going on?
"Something's wrong," Alec said, and his voice sounded a million miles away. "Check her, she must be injured."
Frowning severely, Henry's hands started travelling my body, quickly and efficiently. When he hit a tender spot low on my stomach I hissed and tried to swat at him. Frown intensifying that much more, he ripped the woollen coat I was wearing wide open, and cursed fluently in Spanish.
"Alec, call someone. Now." Then he cranked his head around to where Justice was still beating the living daylights out of Reed. "Montoya! You need to get over here."
I needed to sit up. What was everyone fussing about? Alec held me down with an arm across my chest and I struggled weakly to no avail.
"Fine," I managed to get out, actually panting now. "I'm...fine."
He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and started dialling. When I heard him say "ambulance" it dawned on me that maybe I wasn't so fine after all.
Justice dropped Reed's slack body and was beside me in the next instant. One glance at my stomach and his face lost what little colour it had left. Eyes one shade lighter than black filled with torment and a noise escaped him, somewhere between a sob and a groan.
"Jesus Christ. How did you... When did it... I - you -" he broke off and cupped my face with one of his hands. Pressed his forehead against mine. "It's okay. You're okay. You're going to be just fine, tesorina mia." The distress on his face made me wonder if he was trying to make himself believe that.
"She must have fallen on Reed's knife when she tackled him," Henry said.
He was using his vest to put pressure on my stomach, and Alec was barking into his phone, but I hardly noticed. I only had eyes for Justice, and despite how tired I was, how much effort even blinking was, I reached up to run my hand through his inky hair.
"Justice," I soothed, repeating the action.
He was muttering incoherently in Italian, and suddenly broke off into English. "I thought I'd lost you back there, when you fell. I tried to get to you, but I - I couldn't." His voice cracked, and he took in a shuddering breath. "You have no idea how terrified I was, not being able to see you were okay. And now...now..."
"I'm okay," I assured him, and he pulled back so he could see me better.
"Liar," he accused softly, and my heart physically ached over how distraught he looked.
"Ambulance is about twenty minutes away," Alec said, his voice harsh. "The bus won't come down the main road. Too many potholes and sections that are torn up."
Justice's eyes closed briefly, not in relief but in horrid understanding.
"She doesn't have twenty minutes," he whispered.
I probably should have been terrified that things were this bad, but strangely enough I wasn't. Justice was okay. We'd saved Ray. My brothers and sisters were safe. Not a bad outcome in my books.
"Montoya, what do you want us to do? Montoya!"
Justice snapped himself out of his daze, and his expression morphed from hopeless to fiercely determined.
"You're not dying here," he snapped at me, then turned on Henry. "Get my car and bring it here."
Henry was gone before Justice spoke his last word.
"I can't lift her with my arm like this," Justice said to Alec next. "I need you to -"
But Alec was already moving. He scooped me off the ground, cradling me against his chest. I must have groaned because he muttered, "Sorry."
My vision went back to winking in and out, but it worked well enough to show me Justice staggering rather than walking. Blood continued to leak down his arm, and he had to plant his legs and bend at the waist slightly to steady himself.
"Montoya," Alec started, but Justice cut him off.
"Destiny's fifteen minutes from here. I could make it in eight. You're driving, and I expect you to make it in seven."
"Done," Alec said, and I whimpered when he started walking briskly the same way Henry had shot off to. I closed my eyes; it felt like they'd been weighed down with cement. A strange feeling seeped into me. I was so exhausted now I had to work at each inhale.
"What about Callahan?" Alec asked.
"Taken care of."
There was a sting against one of my cheeks. "Ioney, baby, open your eyes. Look at me."
But the darkness was so welcoming, hugging me like a warm embrace. The pain was fading, along with the sound of Justice's voice, more frantic now.
"God damn it, Ioney, please, open your eyes!"
I wanted to reassure him. Pushed as hard as I could and was met with some success.
My eyes cracked open. Everything was different. We weren't in the middle of nowhere surrounded by falling down factories.
We were in Justice's Escalade. The back seat had been lowered, and I was laid out across it. Justice was leaning over me, one hand pressed against my stomach, the other brushing the hair back from my face.
"That's my girl," he murmured, and I thought I saw tears in his eyes. "That's my girl. Stay awake for me, cucciola mia."
"I'm okay," I whispered, and had to pause to simply breathe. "Justice. We're okay."
I needed to hear him say it too. I just needed to hear the words come out of his mouth. After a moment's hesitation, he lowered his face, placing a kiss on my forehead. The last words I heard him speak were, "Yes, baby, we're okay."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Yo, sleepyhead, it's time to get up."
I groaned at the unwelcome noise and snuggled in deeper under the covers. If I was extremely lucky, it would go away.
"Een, come on. You've been sleeping all day."
And I would be content to continue that way, if only I could be left in peace. Unfortunately, it turned out I wasn't lucky at all. The covers were ripped from my body and I let out a squeal when the warmth was replaced by icy cold hands snaking their way under the back of my shirt.
"Nooooo," I cried, and rolled over, grabbing a fistful of my attacker's shirt.
Kalen was kneeling beside me, grinning down at me, his bright blue eyes dancing with mischief. I sucked in a hard breath and froze at the sight of him there, whole and healthy. Vibrant and... alive.
Exasperated, but still grinning cheekily, Kalen mussed my hair. "Een, you need to get your ass up. Montoya's here and we gotta be somewhere, like, five minutes ago. So if you're not off this mattress in the next thirty seconds, I'll sic him on you."
Heart stuck in my throat, I glanced around. I was at home, laying on the mattress in the living room. The blue curtain that hung around it had been pulled back, and daylight streamed into the room through the living room windows. It was warm. Warm enough I was lying in nothing but a t-shirt and denim cut-offs, and Kalen was wearing one of his fitted tank tops.
Standing against the wall by the front door was Justice, and beside him was Ray. Ray was regarding me with worry in his eyes and a little bit of uncertainty. His young face was unblemished, untainted by the cuts and bruises Callahan had dealt him. He was in clean clothes, and his mop of brown hair threatened to fall into his brown eyes.
At the mention of his name, Justice cast me an impatient, uninterested stare. I quickly appraised him and breathed out an internal sigh of relief. His right arm wasn't bleeding profusely and the gash over his brow was gone. He was in his usual get up - black jeans, black shirt, black boots.
His inky hair was pushed back off his sculpted face, and his dark eyes were cold. Distant. Unapproachable. Like I meant nothing more to him than I was his best friend's little sister.
Confused, I brought my gaze back to Kalen, who was so close I was drowning in his familiar musky scent.
"You died," I whispered, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. I traced his face with my fingertips as his grin turned to a frown. His thick brow, strong nose, high cheekbones. That angular jaw and those lips, always chapped. And his eyes. Bluer than any I'd ever seen and always so expressive, especially if he was angry.
"You died," I repeated, and the tears spilled over to run down my cheeks. "I buried you."
"Hey," he crooned, and pulled me to him in a hug. He had one hand in my hair and the other one rubbing my back. I clung to him with a desperation I'd never known before. "You must have had a bad dream. Everything's fine. I'm right here."
I clutched him even tighter. "It wasn't a dream," I sobbed, my heart pounding so hard in my chest it hurt. "You left one night. Said you'd see me in the morning, but you never came back. A cop came to our door and told me you'd died. And then I buried you, Kalen."
He was laughing now, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Like he found my distress amusing because what I was saying was that preposterous.
"Een, you're choking me," he said around a chuckle. "Ease up, baby girl. Nobody died. We're all fine. At least, we will be if you let up," he finished, tugging at my iron grip.
"Please be real, please be real," I muttered over and over again. I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe if I kept them closed, I could stay like this forever, holding Kalen in my arms.
The sense of dread filling my body told me otherwise. Whispered doubts tore through my mind, and mocked me for my futile hope. He wasn't real. He wasn't here. And when he left me again, my fractured heart would never piece itself back together.
"Een, shh, it's okay. I promise it's okay. I've got you, baby girl."
But I wasn't convinced. And when an icy chill overtook me, I gasped and pulled back.
Kalen was still smiling at me, still crooning, but something was wrong. He was fading before my very eyes, becoming translucent.
"Kalen!" I screamed, trying to grab him. My fingers sunk right through his diminishing form. "Kalen, no!"
"Shh, Een, it's okay. It's all going to be okay."
He gave me one last cheeky grin and vanished.
"No!" I screamed, shuffling forward to where he'd been kneeling. A keening noise skated over my lips, my heart cracking into such tiny pieces as I tried to bring Kalen back to me.
I was so distraught, I nearly missed the loud thud in front of me. Tears blurring my vision, I glanced over to see Ray on the floor, where he lay unmoving. He was on his stomach, his head facing my way, and his eyes were glassy. Lifeless.
Callahan stood in my open front doorway, dressed in his expensive suit and standing with that regal posture. In his hand was a gun and on his face was a satisfied smile.
He'd shot Ray. He'd killed him.
And he rounded his gun on Justice next. I didn't even have the time to scream. One second Justice was standing there, looking at me with such anguish in his eyes like he was afraid for my wellbeing and not his own. The next there was a crack renting the air, and Justice's body jerked before he collapsed. He landed next to Ray, and he didn't get back up.
Laughing now, Callahan stepped over the threshold with me in his sights. I lowered my eyes from his face to stare down the barrel of his gun. Oddly enough, my last thoughts were of Kalen.
"You said it would be okay," I whispered, and closed my eyes.
BANG.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
My eyes opened.
I was staring at a ceiling, one I was sure I'd never seen before in my life. I'd been dreaming, and I tried to grasp the fading dream with slippery fingers. It didn't work. All I was left with was a thumping heart and a feeling of deep sadness and fear.
Disoriented, I stayed still while I tried to get my bearings. I was laying on something soft, a bed probably. There was a series of beeps that were becoming increasingly annoying by the second. The walls and ceiling were an off white, and I caught sight of mint green curtains out of the corner of my eye.
Lastly, there was an unpleasant odour. Chemicals. Antiseptic.
Hospital, my mind informed me rather groggily. Confusion set in, along with mild panic. Why was I here? The answer became crystal clear when I shifted the barest inch and immediately wished I hadn't. Aches and pains sprang to life all over my body. My head throbbed in time with my lower leg. My elbow and hands were in a perfect stinging symphony. My back and neck were tight. My throat felt swollen. But the worst pain of all was the fire burning low in my gut.
My stomach screamed out so badly if someone had offered to remove it for me I would have jumped at the chance.
A whimper escaped me when I shifted some more. Now that I was coherent enough to think, I was trying hard to piece it all together. The last thing I remembered was speaking to Mycha on the phone, where he and the rest of the kids were staying at Mr. Jacobs.
Everything else was hazy. I'd been with Justice, at Samson's. He'd been making all sorts of phone calls, preparing for...
Horror crashed through me as the rest of the night's events played out before my eyes like a bad movie.
On the rooftop.
Seeing Ray, battered and bruised but alive.
Justice shot.
Gunfire.
People dying left right and centre.
Falling through the floor.
Someone going out a window.
Reed, trying to shoot Henry.
Justice's face when I'd been lying on the ground... Lying on the ground because I'd been stabbed. Suddenly frantic, I struggled against my own lethargy and fatigue to sit up. The first thing I did was yank out the tubes that were stuck up my nose. Then I pulled a bulky clip off the end of my index finger. This caused a machine on my right to start squealing manically as if in protest.
Ray, who'd been fast asleep in the chair next to me with his head resting in his arms on the side of the bed, reacted almost violently at the shrill noise. His eyes snapped open and his head came up so fast it had to have made him dizzy. A vacant expression crossed his face as he attempted to figure out what was going on. When the sleep cleared and he blinked at me a couple of times, I paused.
Several thoughts accosted me. Ray was fine. Yeah, he was wearing a cast on one arm and the other was still heavily bandaged. He was sporting a split lip and several nasty bruises over his face. But he was alive.
I frowned. He was also here, with me, instead of in the cancer ward with his mother. But in the end when our eyes met, I didn't have to ask what he was doing here. I knew. She was gone.
As he looked at me, Ray went from being a fifteen year old boy wise and mature beyond his years to being a small child with feet too little to fill his shoes. There was a staggering vulnerability to him and a raw pain I didn't know how to soothe.
He opened his mouth, closed it, and tried again.
"I uh... I had to make sure you were okay," he murmured quietly, and the first tears fell from his eyes. My throat closed over and I couldn't speak.
"She - mi madre - she, uh, she's..." He swiped at his eyes. More tears fell. My own vision started to blur.
"Ray," I whispered, ignoring the way my voice was hoarse and my throat ached. I reached out to touch his face and he snagged my hand mid air, grasping it tightly.
He blinked again and his face crumbled until all I could see was the hurt and the helplessness and the grief. He was so lost, and I wanted to find him.
"I couldn't lose you too," he said around a sob. He shook his head, his tears coming faster. "Ioney, what am I going to do? My mama, she was everything I had. Without her I'm nothing. I have nobody. I don't know what to do. I need her to tell me what to do next, but she's - she's..." He was crying freely now, his body shaking with the wracking sobs he could no longer hold back.
The physical pain I was in was nothing compared to the grief that hit me at seeing Ray so broken. Heedless of my injuries, I shoved myself over on the bed to make room and pulled him with me. He came easily, and I cradled him in my arms, holding him while we both cried.
"She's gone," he moaned, burying his face into the crook of my throat. "She left me. She knew I had nobody and she left me."
I held him tighter and kissed his forehead, whispering in his ear. "It's okay, sweetie. I've got you."
He cried even harder, curling in on himself. "I need her."
"I know," I said softly, and started to rock him gently.
"I don't want to be alone."
God, how I wished I could make it better for him. How I wished I could bring his mother back for him. But I couldn't, and it hurt worse than anything else, knowing this beautiful boy had lost what was most important to him.
"Ray, listen to me," I said, running my good hand through his hair over and over. "You're not alone. I'm here, Ray. I'll always be here. As long as you need me. I won't leave you, sweetie, I promise."
I looked up then, and my eyes found Justice's. He was standing in the doorway to the hospital room, so tense he was ramrod straight. His right arm was in a sling, and even with his shirt covering it, I could make out the bulky bandages that snaked from his elbow and ran up over his shoulder and collar bone. He had a fresh gash over his eyebrow that had been secured shut with paper stitches, and his skin was paler than usual.
But he was there, breathing, alive. Fresh tears sailed down my cheeks in gratitude of that small favour.
He offered me a small smile, as if he could read my mind and was thinking along the same lines, then focused his attention on the man he had a firm grasp of with his good arm. It was a doctor, I realised, who looked quite harassed and agitated at being reprimanded. No doubt he'd come running as soon as that wretched machine had started squawking madly.
Justice said something and released the man, who strode across the small space to turn the thing off.
"Miss Mercer, I'm Dr. Facelli and I want to -"
"No," I said, and clutched Ray like Dr. Facelli might try to take him from me. He looked taken aback, and frowned at me.
"I'm sorry but I just want to check -"
"I said no," I repeated firmly.
"It won't take long -"
"This boy just lost his mother. Come back later," I said, and nestled down against Ray who was sobbing softly, his shoulders heaving every so often.
Dr. Facelli sighed. Regarded me and Ray with what I thought was compassion in his light eyes. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, after I've made my rounds."
With that said he made his exit, passing Justice a reproachful frown as he did so. Unperturbed, Justice came further into the room, snagging the chair Ray had been occupying earlier and dragging it to the other side of the bed. This much closer, I could see the dark circles under his eyes and the lines of stress that edged them. For the first time he looked a lot older than his twenty-one years.
He flipped the chair so it was backwards and sat down on it, and I held my hand out towards him. Justice threaded his fingers through mine and kissed my knuckles, and some of the tension finally left his body.
We stayed like that for just over an hour in contemplative silence, neither of us wanting to speak and disturb Ray. I kept him cradled against me as eventually his breathing evened out and his body became lax.
"He's asleep," I said, and Justice nodded. I cleared my throat to get rid of the lump in it and asked a question that upset me. "When did his mother..."
"Yesterday," Justice said, and a sadness touched his dark eyes. "Sal was with him when it happened. Ray was right beside her. He held her hand until well after she'd taken her last breath. When they came in and told him they had to move her, Sal thought he might ask to go with her. But he didn't. Instead he took off out of the room without a word and ran through the hospital. He didn't stop running until he got here, and he hasn't moved since."
I remembered what Ray had said: I couldn't lose you too.
"Oh, Ray," I whispered, a fresh ache starting in my chest.
"I've made arrangements for his mother's funeral," Justice said, and shifted in the chair with a wince. "It'll be on Friday."
I nodded, and something occurred to me. "How long have I been out?"
A flicker of emotion crossed his face before he recovered and that damned blank mask descended. "Three days. You flatlined just after we got you here. And then again in surgery."
It occurred to me why Justice had suddenly become so distant.
"Hey," I said, squeezing his fingers with my own. He refused to look at me, instead staring somewhere over Ray's shoulder. "Justice," I pressed, squeezing again.
He sighed and dragged his eyes over to meet mine. "What."
"I'm not going anywhere," I told him. "I'm still here, and I'm okay. We're okay."
"I watched you die," he said, so quietly I almost didn't hear him. "You didn't have a heartbeat for thirty seven seconds." His expression grew dark. "It was the longest thirty seven seconds of my life."
"I'm sorry," I said, and though I knew sorry meant nothing in the scheme of things, it was the best I could do right now.
Justice scowled at me and let go of my hand. "Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry about. I was the one that put you in danger. I was the one that dropped you through a hole in the floor. I was the one who wasn't there when you needed me." He gestured at me with his good arm. "This is all my fault. I nearly cost you your life, Ioney."
If I could have, I would have gotten up out of the bed to smack him. I returned his scowl with one of my own, anger boiling up within me. "I can accept that intelligent people have their moments of utter stupidity. For your sake, this is what I'm going to put your rant down as: a rare moment of stupidity from an otherwise extremely intelligent man."
He opened his mouth to interrupt but I spoke over him. "Don't you dare blame yourself," I snapped, and he blinked at me in surprise. "Where we are now has nothing to do with you. Nothing. You didn't nearly cost me my life, Justice Montoya. You gave it back to me. I'm alive because you cared enough to intervene and help me out of a mess I had no hope of getting out of by myself. I was so nasty to you. I treated you badly, lashed out at you, condemned you for things that weren't your fault. Yet you still kept coming back, and you never held any of it against me. You've always been exactly what I needed. Not just now, but as long as I've known you. I can never hope to repay you for everything you've done, but I can kick you where it hurts if I ever hear those words leave your mouth again."
Justice's anger and self loathing melted in the face of my righteous indignation, and he leaned forward to plant a chaste kiss on my cheek. "I think I'll pass on that kick," he murmured. "Alec's still limping, you know."
He pulled back to shake his head at me in awe. "Sei davvero tutto per me. Senza di te non sono niente, tesorina mia."
I frowned at him. "I don't know what you just said."
He shrugged, igniting my agitation.
"Are you going to tell me?"
"No."
I glowered at him. "I'll get a freaking dictionary if I have to."
His smirked at me. "By then you'll have forgotten what it was I said."
Truthfully, I'd already forgotten what he'd actually said, choosing to savour the lilt of his accent whenever he spoke Italian instead.
"Sal's good with computers, I'm sure he could Google it for me," I said anyway.
Justice snorted. "I doubt Sal will come to your aid after the way I threatened his last laptop."
"I don't think I like hearing my name and the word "threaten" in the same sentence," came a deeply amused voice, and we both glanced up in time to see Sal himself enter the room, Gin tucked against his side.
Sal looked marginally better than Me, Ray, or Justice, with nothing but a few scrapes decorating his jaw. His chin length brown hair was clipped back from his face, and when his intuitive brown gaze landed on Ray sound asleep in my arms, his eyes dulled in sympathetic pain.
Gin appeared to be fine except for a decent sized lump just above her temple at her hairline. The bruising was just starting to fade from a deep purple to a pale fuchsia tinged with yellow. Her pixie cut wasn't quite successful at hiding it and I had to bite back a wince at how painful it was.
"Good to see you conscious, Mercer," Sal said, saluting me.
My right hip was going numb and I started to shift but stopped suddenly and gasped in pain. My stomach erupted in such agony if Ray hadn't been curled up against me I would have doubled over.
"Ioney?" Justice asked, worry lining his face.
"It's okay," I said when the pain eased enough that I could speak. I let out a shaky laugh. "I don't think consciousness agrees with me much at the moment."
Gin and Sal stayed until the doctor arrived, and between the three of them, they caught me up on everything I'd missed. Sal started off with a sincere apology which baffled me until he explained that he'd left pretty quickly the night we'd saved Ray because Gin had been knocked unconscious and Ray had got himself pretty banged up.
Apparently he'd brought them both to Destiny, and had been in the middle of the ER waiting room when Justice, Alec and Henry had crashed through the doors with me in Alec's arms.
Gin then jumped in and told me the kids were doing okay, and that they were still with Mr. Jacobs. She'd offered to take them off his hands, but he'd insisted they were fine where they were. Mycha knew what had happened to me and had been up to visit twice, but Mr. Jacobs didn't think it was a good idea to let the others know until I was up to seeing visitors.
Justice filled in a few more gaps by informing me that after I'd fallen through the second storey of the office building, he'd been dragged out and down to where Callahan and all of his men had parked up, coincidentally not too far from where we'd left our cars. Callahan had been so arrogant that he could break Justice and regain his loyalty that he wasn't going to kill him. He ordered the two men holding Justice to cuff him and throw him in the trunk of his car. That, at least, explained the handcuffs that had been dangling from one of Justice's wrists when he'd appeared by the tree line.
Long story short, Justice managed to avoid being locked in Callahan's trunk, and when Callahan had pulled a gun on him, help arrived in the form of Detective Wagner. Detective Wagner, who Justice had promised evidence to on the murder of the Chicago Police Superintendent Mark Spurges.
Justice had told the detective to meet us out there, and explained that Callahan was the murderer. Detective Wagner had been late, but he'd made good on his end of the bargain and arrested Callahan on sight - after shooting him in the leg when he refused to give up his weapon.
The Chicago Police Department was now in possession of the original surveillance CD and one of the copies. Justice had also made sure they knew I was the one who'd had it. Now the police were extremely interested in me and getting a testimony of what I'd experienced over the last few weeks so they could further incriminate him.
Because they so needed more to go on than the video that clearly depicted him stabbing the superintendent forty-seven times.
Justice assured me that the police interest was necessary in case Cebrian Lupe decided he was upset over the superintendent's murderer being brought to light. He believed Lupe would think twice about touching me now that the police were involved and invested in my welfare.
I wasn't so sure. Going by the things they'd all been saying about their big boss, I was under the impression that Cebrian Lupe was above the law and could do whatever he wanted, regardless of what the repercussions would be. I guess we'd soon find out.
Dr. Facelli came back and this time wouldn't take no for an answer. He made everybody leave, and when Ray proved too exhausted to being shaken awake, Sal simply picked him up off the bed, carrying him out to the waiting room.
Dr. Facelli gave me a thorough checking over, and took the time to explain everything that was wrong with me. It was a pretty long list.
Three broken fingers on my right hand with the possibility of nerve damage - they'd know more once the swelling went down and they were able to run some tests. On top of that both of my hands were covered in scrapes and over a dozen splinters had been removed from them. The gash in my lower leg that cut across my knee had needed thirty two stitches, and had nearly been wide enough to require a skin graft instead. I wasn't allowed to put weight on it until after the stitches came out; if they tore at any time during the recovery period, I would end up needing a skin graft to repair the damage a second time over.
And last but not least, was my stomach, which had required extensive surgery to repair.
"We're going to keep you here for the next three days under observation," Dr. Facelli said, tucking the thin green gown I was wearing back around me. "It's healing quite nicely of course, but due to the complications of your surgery" - he was referring to me having lost my heartbeat during it - "we'd just like to take a few extra precautions. You'll be very sore and tender for the next week or so, and we'll need you back to remove the stitches in both your shin and your stomach. I can also schedule you an appointment with the obstetrician if you'd like."
I frowned at him. "Why would I want to see one of those?"
When a sympathetic smile crossed his face, it made me uneasy. "When I say your surgery was successful, it means you survived it. Unfortunately, due to the nature of the wound and it's placing, there was damage in your lower abdomen that we were unable to repair or salvage."
"Damage that I'd need to talk to an obstetrician about," I said flatly.
"The surgeon had to do a partial hysterectomy and remove one of your ovaries as well as part of your uterus. At the moment it's not looking likely that you'll be able to conceive children. But an obstetrician will have a better idea and will be able to go over several options with you if that is the case. I can make an appoi -"
"No," I said, suddenly exhausted. I glanced over at the closed door, even though I knew nobody was there. "Does anyone else know what you just told me?"
Dr. Facelli shook his head. "You're eighteen, which means by rights I'm not allowed to discuss your condition with anyone unless you give me explicit permission."
Relief hit me like a ton of bricks. The idea of repeating this conversation to anyone, namely Justice, wasn't something I wanted to do anytime soon.