Kings of Anarchy (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep #3) - Caroline Peckham Page 0,10

the sun had set and change everything. Make a thousand different choices. It seemed like when the sun rose, this night would be set in stone. But right now, it all just felt like a terrible nightmare I could still wake from, if only I knew how.

The guys were talking in low voices, but I couldn't distinguish the words and didn't really try. There was a buzzing in my ears, a wall dividing me from the world as I retreated further and further into myself. I couldn't feel anything, not the wooden windowsill where my hand lay or the temperature in the room. I just felt...nothing.

"Tatum," Monroe spoke and the word seemed to tear through that wall I was vanishing behind, bringing me back to life. I didn't turn to him, but I felt him move close behind me. The heat of his flesh called to me and as he closed the distance between us, I leaned back against him, realising I was frozen to the bone once his hands encircled me. "We have to stay here for forty eight hours to quarantine, then we can go home."

Home. The word choice seemed so strange. Everlake wasn't home. Home was my dad, home was Jess, home was where my heart was content. Everlake wasn't any of those things. But...Monroe was.

"Saint," I murmured, a note of fear in my tone.

The doctor opened the door across the room and my heart jolted as I turned to him in panic. He kept his mask in place as he looked at us, his scrubs flecked with blood.

“He’s stable,” he said and the strength went out of my body.

"Fuck," Monroe breathed, but with no grit to his voice like I expected. Shouldn't he have been unhappy that Saint was okay?

My shoulders sagged with relief then my whole body followed and I crouched low, taking in long breaths as that news washed through me. Blake clapped Kyan on the shoulder as the two them shared a relieved hug.

“I told you that bastard was too stubborn to die, baby,” Kyan said, barking a laugh.

"Can I see him?" I asked.

"He's unconscious," the doctor explained.

"I still want to see him."

Monroe moved closer, pulling me to my feet and keeping a hand on my back.

The doctor nodded. “You can see him shortly, the nurses are just cleaning up.”

“What’s the prognosis doc?” Blake pushed.

“He’s got a hairline fracture in his radius in the right arm and three broken ribs on the same side. The bullet didn’t go through, so we’ve extracted it from his shoulder and stitched him up and given him a blood transfusion, some antibiotics and some fluids. Frankly, he’s one lucky guy.”

“Maybe if the bullet had been made of pure silver there’d have been more chance of it killing him,” Blake joked, jumping on Kyan in his joy and my heart lifted a little.

“Yeah with a priest tossing holy water on him and casting him back to hell,” Kyan agreed.

“Even then, he probably would have refused to die. His skin could have melted off of his bones, but he’d just have hung around as an angry poltergeist shouting at us whenever we fucked up his schedules,” Blake joked.

Their teasing banter almost brought a smile to my face especially as I could feel the relief in the room like a physical thing.

The doctor exited the waiting room again and I rubbed my tired eyes, leaning against Monroe for support as we waited to be allowed in to see Saint.

The minutes seemed to stretch on and on, but the doctor finally returned, beckoning us in. “Two at a time,” he insisted.

"Come on, baby. I'll take you." Kyan took my hand and I let my fingers trail over Monroe's arm in goodbye as he led me away.

Kyan felt so strong, his body like armour. I wanted to slide into it for a while and pretend I was as unshakeable as him. But even as I drew on that strength in him, I knew it could do nothing to repair my shattered heart. Or heal the gaping wound left by the death of my father. Nothing could shield me from that.

The scent of blood still hung in the air as we entered the room, but it was dulled by a chemical tang that hit the back of my throat. Saint was shirtless, the wound on his shoulder bandaged along with his ribs and an IV was stuck in his left arm while a sling held his right against his chest.

He looked so un-Saint