upend furniture, fling their power around, or throw shit. But there was no dirt or mildew or shabby furnishings.
“Devon?”
Hearing Jolene’s voice, Devon turned to see the Prime standing at the nurse’s station looking weary and downright pissed.
“You got here fast,” Jolene added, crossing to her.
“How is Pamela?”
“Stable.” Jolene sighed. “Her heart stopped once, but the doctors were able to get it going again.”
A harsh breath whooshed out of Devon. “Is she in there?” Her gaze flicked to the closed door behind Jolene.
“Yes. She’s sleeping, but you can see her in a moment.”
Flexing her fingers, Devon stepped closer to Jolene. “You have the person who did this to her, right?”
Jolene’s face hardened. “I wish I did. Nobody saw anything, none of the cameras picked up anything suspicious. But one of the nurses who works on the ward left early and is now missing. My guess? She was paid or blackmailed to poison Pamela and she left before anyone could notice that something was wrong. The other staff said she’d been acting strange all day. Said she was edgy and impatient.” Jolene rubbed Devon’s arm. “She’ll be found, sweetheart.”
Tanner raised a brow. “But will she be alive, or will she have her throat slit like Flanagan?”
“Hopefully, she’s alive, because I have some delightful things in mind for her,” said Jolene, her voice pure silken menace. “This whole thing has shaken up everyone. We’re not used to our own betraying us this way.” Jolene gestured at the trauma room. “Go see her.”
Pushing open the door, Devon stepped into what closely resembled a hospital emergency room. Pamela lay very still on the bed, eyes closed, lips parted, her skin so pale it made her orange hospital bracelet look almost neon—orange being “code” for patients who could be a danger to themselves.
A slender woman looked up from her magazine and smiled at Devon and Tanner, but she didn’t leave her chair until Jolene reassured her that they’d be fine alone with Pamela.
Swallowing, Devon crossed to the bed and took her mother’s limp hand. It was cold and thin. “Mom.” Her voice cracked, so she coughed to clear her throat. “Mom.”
Pamela’s eyelids fluttered open, revealing bloodshot eyes that quickly lit with recognition. “Devon,” she breathed. Her lips slowly curled into a blinding but shaky smile, as if she lacked the energy to keep it on her face. “I don’t feel too good,” she added, her voice weak and subdued.
“I know.” Devon gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re going to be okay.” God, it was horrible seeing her this way. Her mother never looked fully alert. Her eyes always seemed cloudy and could sometimes be disturbingly vacant. But she was never groggy or physically weak. Right then, Pamela looked like she’d had the life sucked out of her.
Pamela squinted, eyes dancing from object to object. Confusion marred her features, and it was clear she didn’t know where she was or why she was there. “Who’s the man by the door? Don’t recognize him,” she slurred.
“That’s Tanner Cole. He’s my mate.”
“Mate,” Pamela quietly echoed, but it was like the word didn’t really penetrate in her mind because she didn’t otherwise react. “Do you remember when we went sailing with Beck and Richie? You were four, I think. It was a beautiful day. You were convinced you saw a whale.”
A faint nostalgic smile crept onto Devon’s face. “I remember.”
“Beck stopped the boat at a cove. It was all dark and shiny and magical. He told you to throw a coin into the little spring there and make a wish. You made a wish that I’d get better.” Her eyes drifted shut, and she forced them open. “I tried, you know. Tried over and over. Never could make your wish come true, though.”
Devon’s throat thickened. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not.” Her eyes slid to Tanner. “My girl’s special.”
“I know,” he said.
“You treat her like she’s special.” Her eyes involuntarily drifted shut again. “I would’ve done it, but I couldn’t.”
“Sleep now,” Devon whispered. “You need it.”
“You’ll come back?” she asked, eyes still closed, sounding half-asleep.
“I’ll come back.”
Once Pamela had drifted off to sleep, Devon slipped out of the room and took a deep breath. “I’m gonna kill the fucker for this, Tanner. Blood relative or not, I’ll fucking kill them.”
“I’ll help you,” he said.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“A naked day?”
Lying beside his mate on the bed the next morning, Tanner smoothed his hand down her bare arm, marveling at how silky-soft her skin was. His ego got a real kick out of seeing her all