Proof of Life (The Potentate of Atlanta #4) - Hailey Edwards Page 0,74

territory that will help pave the way for others who’ve made mistakes and wish to rectify them.” He rose and pulled the cover back, exposing my bare leg to the knee. “No one believed a dybbuk could be redeemed, but you’ve proven that’s not the case.”

A sudden tightness in my throat made it hard to speak. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” He examined the tattoos on my ankle. “All I did was bind Ambrose to you for life to prevent him from killing you to escape into a new host. That was the work of a few hours. You’re the one who fights to maintain your identity every day. That’s the work of a lifetime.”

Uncomfortable with his subtle praise, which from Linus was like any other mentor pinning a gold medal on their student’s chest, I gave myself permission to ask after the others. “How are they?”

Accepting the change of subject, since he was as uncomfortable with praise as me, he smiled. “Good.”

“They’re going to be okay?”

“Adelaide is awake and talking. We’ve flushed the drugs from her system. We’re working on rehydrating her now.” He sat back in his chair. “Boaz punched Abbott, called him a witchy bastard, stumbled into the room with Adelaide, then passed out on her floor.”

“That’s…romantic…I guess?”

“Abbott had a second bed put in her room, so they’re together. Boaz is, however, cuffed to his bedrail to prevent another assault on the staff.” Linus tapped his fingers on his knee. “He must have put up more resistance than the others. He was pumped full of drugs, a lethal amount, and his progress has been slower.” He stilled his drumming. “Honestly, I’m not sure how he survived as long as he did with that particular cocktail in his system. If you hadn’t found him when you did, he would have died. I doubt he would have lived the day.”

A cold lump hardened in my gut, and I wet my lips. “He’s going to be okay, though, right?”

“Grier has been working on him.” He smiled tightly. “He’s in very capable hands.”

“That’s good.” I twisted the sheet into knots. “How is Mr. Whitaker?”

“He’s in a medically induced coma. He didn’t handle withdrawal from his drug of choice well. He inflicted a lot of damage on himself, so he’s restrained. The drugs he was given interacted with ones already in his system, but we expect him to make a full recovery.”

“I knew he drank, but I had no idea he used anything harder.”

“Adelaide was also unaware he had developed other tastes, but she says it explains where some of their money has gone. She plans to check him into rehab once he’s stable enough for transfer.”

“If you see her before I do, tell her not to worry about the cost. I’ll pay for it. All of it.”

“I’ll do that.” A deep line furrowed his brow. “Matron Pritchard is also in good health.”

“Good,” I said sharply, and wished I had taken time to dull the edge first. “I’m glad everyone is okay.”

“Your mate is pacing a hole in the floor.” He rose and patted my hand. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Linus nodded to Midas in passing, but I don’t think Midas noticed with his entire being focused on me.

It didn’t bode well that Midas shut the door behind him to keep us from being overheard by the others. I had an idea of where this conversation was heading, and I would rather sew my mouth together without anesthesia than talk about this. But the feral cat was out of the bag now.

The mattress dipped when he sat beside me. “Do you want to talk about Liz’s allegations?”

“No.”

Taking my hand, he toyed with my fingers. “Any idea how to locate her?”

“You would really let it go, just like that?”

“Do you know how long it took me to work up the courage to share what happened to me in Faerie?” He let that sink in. “Do you know how long after I told Mom and Lethe I held it all in until I told you?” He cut me off before I could answer. “You’re young, Hadley. It’s okay if you haven’t made peace with your past. We have the rest of our lives for you to decide what you do and don’t want me to know.”

“Except now I’ll be paranoid every time I’m naked in front of you that you’re staring at them. The scars.”

“You don’t gawk at mine.” He rubbed a hand down one crosshatched forearm. “Why would