Page 12 of Bound By Thorns
“Didn’t you get your revenge by killing our parents?”
He turned to glare at me and bellowed, “MYparents! You fucking stole them. I should’ve had you killed that day. That useless idiot shot your boss instead.”
My eyes widened a fraction, recalling the day when Leora and I had our training session and Zarek was shot in his arm. That bullet was for me, fuck!
Walking with Tyka was like shadow-boxing with my past. He wasn’t just any tormentor; he was Tyka Carlton, a boy who once, in a twisted way, was my brother. Adopted by the Carltons when he was only four, his deep-seated jealousy and psychopathic tendencies were palpable by the time I arrived when I was sixteen and he was thirteen.
He ran away at fifteen, which was a dark relief, but the reprieve was short-lived. After joining the military, I returned from an assignment only to be blindsided by the news of my adoptive parents’ murder, Tyka’s final act of revenge before he vanished again.
It was my fault I hadn’t considered him a threat when he very clearly was. I should’ve warned my adoptive parents. I should’ve told them about his erratic behavior.
Now, decades later, Tyka was the man engineering my agony, determined to obliterate the Carltons, with me as his chosen target.
Kaylan
Not here. Not now. Not yet.
He was freezing. His pulse was thirty-eight at its highest and he was barely breathing. He could die if I didn’t get him warm.
“Get him to the infirmary,” I said to Tyka in my calmest tone despite the melee of a storm brewing inside me.
“Just do something in his cell itself, he’s fine,” he snarled.
“He’s hypothermic, you idiot. Youlefthim there overnight. He’s no use to us dead. Move. Him. Now.”
Tyka reluctantly signaled two of his men to pick Logan up and transfer him to the infirmary upstairs on the first basement level. I could feel Tyka’s cold gaze following me as we made our way to the infirmary.
I always had a gnawing feeling that given the opportunity, Tyka would relish in putting a bullet through Logan’s head.
Logan lay there, cold and defenseless, a sight that tore at me. Yet, I forced a mask of indifference, distancing myself with a practiced gaze. Inside, I was a storm of emotions, but outwardly, I had to appear unfeeling, detached. The struggle to suppress my feelings while watching him in such a state was overwhelming.
Once they settled him on the only bed the infirmary had, I went to the sink, filled a bucket of hot water, and grabbed some towels. Tyka and his men watched me for a beat and then left me to do my work.
Drenching the towels I covered his whole body with them, in order to increase his body temperature. He was at 33.6°C. He had to be above 35° within the next three hours otherwise he could go into shock. He could die. Logan could die.
I sat beside him, watching him breathe, checking his pulse every now and then. Nobody disturbed me. I did my job in peace. I stared at his beautiful pale face, his lips now bloodless, his lashes resting peacefully over his cheek.
He would groan every few minutes, so I held his cold hand for him to squeeze if he was in pain. I changed the towels with warmer ones every fifteen minutes. Eventually, after two hours, I checked his temperature and it had risen to a good 34.8°. I sighed with relief and changed the towels again. They didn’t have heat packs, so I had to do this the old-fashioned way.
Suddenly, he started to violently shiver, his body shaking painfully. I held him down and rubbed his palms to let the heat from my hands soak in. The shivering didn’t stop.
I eyed the door to the infirmary warily. Because I knew what I had to do.
I went up to the door and checked that it was closed again. Someone could still enter but I would hear the clink of the knob turning.
I walked back to Logan, shed my t-shirt, and climbed into bed with him. Then I literally lay down on top of him, covering his large shaking body with my tiny one. He shivered for a few more minutes and eventually calmed down. His body was so cold but the heat radiating from me had calmed him. I felt a hint of relief flooding when his breathing evened out. I could feel his heart rate climb up too. I stayed there until my eyes felt droopy and I slipped into a peaceful sleep for the first time in months.
FOUR
Logan
Grogginess gave way to a faint warmth. My eyelids fluttered open, my mind grappling with what had happened. I didn’t know how long I was out.
Then I felt the soft weight pressing down on me, hair tickling my neck.
There she was, Kaylan, draped over me, her breath steady against the crook of my neck, her face buried beside me. For a moment, I allowed myself the luxury of this warmth, this semblance of human touch I hadn’t realized I’d been craving. Her body against mine.
But then, the harsh truth sliced through the comforting veil of drowsiness. She was the enemy. A traitor who had watched me suffer, who stood by Garret Tyson’s side. My mind warred with the reality of her kindness against her betrayals. How could the person providing me solace be the same one aligned with my tormentor?
