were filled. What looked like a troll and a human woman were chained to the beds, sound asleep. No Caden.
A gust of relief sighed from my lungs. Please say he made it home. He’s safe.
My gaze drifted over the rest of the room, noticing some Western human medical equipment on the far wall and another wall full of shelves—magical serums and antidotes. The potions and healing techniques were a few of the fae things humans accepted without a problem. Funny, if it benefited us, we were fine with it, but if it didn’t, then it was from the “vile fae” set out to destroy humankind.
“Get up.” She grabbed my legs, swinging them over the side and sitting me up abruptly. I tried to move my arms, but they were yanked back with a metallic sound. My gaze shifted down to my hands, my brain slowly acknowledging the pair of handcuffs chaining me to the bed.
“Against all logic, you lived, healing faster than us healers thought.” She picked up a needle, filling it with liquid. “That gunshot should have killed you in an instant.” Her sculpted eyebrows curved up. “Too bad.”
I looked down at my torso and touched my sternum, feeling the bandage under the gown’s thin fabric. The memory of the bullet going through me dotted sweat along my brow. I had been fatally shot. How was I alive?
“How long have I been here?” I croaked, my throat dry and wobbly.
“Six days.”
“What?” Six days? Since I had been shot in the back? Shouldn’t it take months to heal? “How?”
Fae magic was good, but I didn’t think it was that fast, not for wounds like mine.
“You seemed very determined to live. The fae bullet barely missed your spine. Hit your lungs.” The healer stepped back to me, her voice clipped and unfriendly. “A large amount of blood filled them, which should’ve drowned you.” Bedside manner she did not have. “You really should have died. I would have let you. One less human in this world.”
My black eyes lifted to hers, but not one emotion showed in my expression. I’d been taught to keep my emotions in check, lock up any weakness behind a steel exterior.
“Thought that went against a healer’s code of ethics?” My voice came out raspy and low.
“Are you dead?” She smirked, then stabbed my arm with the needle, injecting a serum into my system. “But let me say…you will wish you were. Where you are headed, death would have been a blessing.”
My mouth parted to respond, but a jolt of adrenaline lurched through my body, swallowing the hazy sensation in a gulp. My eyes bolted open, air slamming into my lungs.
Alert.
Sound. Sight. Taste. My senses flamed to life, turned up so high I could hear the flames lick the glass in the bulbs above my head, footsteps squeaking down the hallway, the smell of floor cleaner, the chalky-stale taste coating my tongue. My brain seemed at full charge, and my limbs twitched and squirmed as though needing to be let off a leash.
“It will fade in a few hours, but they want you awake and fully aware of what’s happening to you.” A menacing smile ghosted her mouth.
“What do you mean fully aware? What’s going to happen? Where am I?” Just as the final words spurted off my tongue, the door burst open. Three huge men stormed into the room dressed in all black, armed with swords and rifles, wearing fae bulletproof vests over their shirts. The fae leader’s insignia was emblazoned on their chests: two intertwined, detailed circles with a sword cutting through the middle, the blade and handle engraved with Celtic symbols and blazing with light. It symbolized the Sword of Nuada, an old-world treasure of theirs, which was said to have been destroyed in the Fae War. But some conspirators believed it made it out and was hidden.
To me, the crest represented fear and death.
Terror gripped my throat, my instincts kicking in. Leaping off the bed in defense, my wrist restraint yanking me back to the bed.
“Hey, Sloane.” The healer tilted her head, smiling at the largest guard, her eyes glistening with lust, not really looking at the other two guys. Sloane had a patch on his arm signifying him as the highest-ranking soldier in the room. His caramel-colored hair was brushed back from his face, revealing eyes even more purple than the healer’s. He was from a noble fairy line, at least at one time. In the new world, lineage didn’t matter as much.