“I’ll call you with an update,” King grumbled, and followed where Nix had just gone.
“What the fuck?” I muttered in disbelief under my breath, dropping back into my chair.
Preston was just a kid, so young with his whole life ahead of him. Twenty-three was too young to die. He had so much going for him, and he’d barely just become a prospect with the Sinners. A choice he never should have made, but did because he wanted to spend more time with his cousin. That’s what he’d told me—that one of his biggest reasons for wanting to be a Sinner was because of Nix. He looked up to him.
Nixon would blame himself for this.
But there was no one to blame but the scumbags who’d shot him.
Rubbing my eyes, I glanced at my watch, growing more worried by the second. Why hadn’t they given me an update on Rose yet? Or Sly?
I tried to catch the attention of a passing nurse, but her head was buried in a clipboard as she scurried through the double doors and into the section of the hospital I wasn’t allowed in.
Two more hours went by before a nurse emerged through them, and our eyes locked. I stood as she approached.
“Mr. Michaels?”
“Yes,” I blurted before she’d finished saying my last name.
“Ms. Adler is awake now and is asking for you. Follow me, please.”
All the air rushed out of my lungs with relief, and I turned to Damon. He pulled me in for a quick hug, clapping my back affectionately.
Over Damon’s shoulder, I could see Indy laying across two chairs, asleep after crying for too long. Momentarily, I wondered if I should wake her.
“I’ll wait here in case there’s an update on Sly,” Damon said, pulling out of our embrace.
I nodded and realized there was something wet on my face. I wiped away the tear and choked, “Thank you.”
Following the nurse, she led me through the white, sterile hallway. The fluorescent lights were blinding, and with every step, my heart thundered.
We took an elevator up two floors, zigzagging down another two hallways before we finally stopped outside her room.
The nurse blocked the door and turned to me. “The doctor will be in shortly to go over the details of her condition with you. If you need anything, you can page the nurses' station from the phone in the room.”
“Thank you,” I told her, and she spun on her heel and walked back down the hallway we just came from.
Placing my hand on the doorknob, I swallowed the lump in my throat and blew out an unsteady breath before I pushed the door, not entirely sure what condition I’d find the love of my life in on the other side.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed hooked up to a bunch of machines. They were beeping steadily, and I took that as a good sign, but the debilitating throbbing in the front of my head reminded me I was here for a reason.
My mouth was dry, and I couldn't swallow—it felt like sandpaper in my throat. I wanted to sit up, and wasn’t sure if I should, but I tried anyway. I was tired and weak, but after several minutes, I found the button to adjust myself. Once the bed was upright, I scooted myself up a little more.
Touching the thin layer of gauze wrapped around my head, my fingertips followed it to where it held thick cotton in place at the base of my skull. Looking down, I saw another bandage wrapped around the bicep of my left arm.
Recollections of what happened started flooding my memory—the barbeque, gunshots, the chaos. Being slammed backward, Cain screaming my name.
Cain.
Where was Cain?
Patting the edge of the bed, I looked for the remote I knew held the button to page the nurses. I needed to see him. I needed to know if Cain was okay and to find out what happened.
What about the rest of the guys? Sly? Indy?
I tried not to panic completely, but my thoughts were spiraling.
