Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“Alaska…”
I hate that voice as much as I love that voice.
“I’m going to pick you up now. Don’t move your hand.” All I can do is nod my agreement. And when I do, one of Zuko’s arms wraps around the backs of my legs while the other slides around my back as he gently lifts me. I stay in my bent position, unable to move.
Fuck. Everything hurts.
And then everything goes black.
TWENTY-ONE
Zuko
Her hand drops from her stomach, and I can see the blood straight away. Louise, who came and got me straight away is next to her, quickly places her hand over the wound as I hurry her out.
“Will she be okay?” Louise asks.
My car is already out front, so I quickly lay her in the backseat. Louise stands behind me, her hand now covered in blood, looking worriedly at Alaska.
“I’ll take care of her. Give me your phone.” She hands it to me, and I quickly input my number and call my own phone. “I’ll call you with an update. Go back to work.” I shut the door and speed off. A soft groan comes from Alaska, but she doesn’t wake.
I drive down back alleys until I reach Mr. Rennes’s house. He’s a doctor for the underground. He’s expensive, but his discretion is always on point, and he has dealt with these types of situations before.
And to be honest, the hospital is the last place I think of when I need something fixed.
As soon I pull up to his apartment building, I reach for Alaska, and she opens her eyes. Those almost lavender-colored eyes find mine before they close again. Her white blouse is covered in blood.
I didn’t see what happened or who did this to her.
But believe me, I will find the who.
Kicking Mr. Rennes’s door with my foot, I hear rustling from the other side before it opens. A salt-and-pepper-haired man stands on the threshold staring back at me, dressed in only a red robe and glasses as big as his eye sockets.
“Mr. Hunter, it’s not every day I get the pleasure of seeing you.” He steps back and waves me in. He’s right. I can stitch myself up, and rarely do I need to come and see the good old doctor. My brothers, on the other hand, prefer the drugs the doctor offers when he needs to fix them up.
“Who is she?” he asks as I step into the back room.
“Mine.”
He sweeps everything off the counter and motions for me to put her down. He quickly slides on a pair of gloves before he touches her.
“Looks to be a stab wound. Isn’t that deep and luckily hasn’t hit anything major,” he says and waves for me to step back. I don’t, and he lets out a heavy sigh as he goes to work around me.
I touch her hair, brushing it back as she lies there. “Why isn’t she awake?” I ask.
“Probably passed out from the pain,” he replies. “I’m sure she will wake soon.” He numbs the area before he starts cleaning and stitching the wound. With every stitch he makes I feel my blood boil that much hotter. When he’s on the last stitch, her eyes flutter open.
At first I see confusion, then fear, then utter panic and she goes to scramble backward on the table, but I hold her down as the doctor finishes.
“Stay still,” I order softly. “It’s almost over.”
“What are you doing?” She gasps.
“Fixing you,” the doctor answers, giving her a smile. “All done, love. I would suggest some pain medication, as it’s going to hurt when the numbing wears off.”
Alaska looks at him, then me, and her eyes close for a second before they reopen.
“I need to sit up.”
“Carefully,” the doctor cautions.
With quick steps, I move around to the side and offer her my hand. When she has hold of it, I slowly pull her up.
She groans and shakes her head. “That crazy bitch,” she hisses.
“Who?” I ask.
Her eyes narrow. “It’s your fault, you know?”
I smirk at her, not knowing what she is implying. “Don’t you look at me like that,” she bites out.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to fuck me again.”
“There isn’t a moment that goes by that I don’t want to fuck you. But who is the bitch?”
“Sarah, the one you got fired. Guess now it’s me who pays the price for your fuckups.” She attempts to get off the table, and I help her, but as soon as one foot hits the floor, she sways on her feet and groans again. I pick her up, careful not to hurt her.
“I’ll handle it,” I declare.
“No, you will not,” she says as forcefully as she can manage. “I know what you do.”
“Yes, don’t we all. Here, take these, please.” The doctor hands her some pills and explains when to take them. She thanks him, and when we get out to the car, I place her in the backseat and reach for the bag in the front before I return to the doc.