I just hope they take down Vlad and burn him and his entire operation to the ground. I’ll be okay with that. I close my eyes, letting the darkness take me.
“What the fuckhave they done to you?” I hear a voice whisper, calling out to me in the darkness. It’s soft, gentle, even soothing, as if trying to coax me forward. As much as I want to, I can’t seem to make myself reach for it, or open my eyes. Instead, I just listen. Is my angel back for me? Or is this some other angel that is finally taking me away from the pain and misery filling me?
Agony burns, whipping through the darkness with a swiftness that makes a groan wrench from my throat. My eyes fly open, and the first thing I see is bright blue eyes that are full of grim determination, as well as pity and sympathy. I feel a quick prick, and a slow burn of sweet relief almost instantly, dulling the pain.
“Angel,” I whisper, my cracked lips barely moving with the word.
“You’re not going to think I’m one while I heal you,” she murmurs.
“Get him fixed up,” I hear a harsh voice snarl from a distance away. Then a door slams shut.
“Fucking dick,” she mutters. If it didn’t hurt so much, I’d laugh. She’s spicy, my blue angel. “Alright, this is going to fucking hurt, so don’t try and kick me or anything, alright?”
“Never,” I slur, my tongue starting to feel thicker.Mmmm, those drugs are nice. Why didn’t I want these last time again?
She moves around behind me and I hear her hiss out a breath. “Motherfucker. You need stitches on most of these. This is going to suck for you, but if I don’t do this and get you cleaned up, you’ll die of an infection. What did they use on you?”
“W-whip,” I stammer out, still unable to give more than a whisper, and my head feels far too heavy to lift.
“Sadistic son of a bitch,” she grunts. Then she gets to work.
Who knew the hands of an angel could change to those of the devil? The burn that fills my body is pure agony, and I barely manage to keep the pleas for mercy from slipping out.
I don’t know how long she works on my back, but my entire body is covered in sweat by the time she’s finished, and even the pain relief she gave me is dulled. “Alright, I’ve done as much as I can here.” Gloves snap, before a light shines into my eyes, making me jerk and groan.
“Angel, you’re a sadist,” I moan, slamming my eyes shut instinctively.
“You have a mild concussion, and I needed to check it. Any nausea?” She pulls a stethoscope from her bag and puts it against my chest.
“Can’t puke if you have nothing in there.” Fuck, I’m so fucking tired. Cat naps aren’t doing it.
I hiss out in pain when she touches my ribs. Her lips thin. “Try to stay as still as possible as I check you,” she orders, hertouch gentle as she runs her hands over my ribs on both sides. I clench my jaw but stay as still as possible.
“Fuck,” I finally hiss when she pulls away.
“You’re fucking lucky. Your ribs aren’t broken, and your lungs are clear, so we don’t have to worry about a collapsed lung. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re cracked. One more blow and they might break through and puncture your lung,” she tells me grimly. She looks around, almost like she’s looking for something before whispering, “We don’t have a lot of time. Who are you? Maybe I can help you.”
“Kill me?” I whisper, watching her. I don’t know this woman. Maybe she’s a spy for Vlad, or she’s planning on trying to decide what to do about me.
“Not unless you want me to,” she whispers, stitching a wound on my chest. “Or if you did something worthy of death.” She flicks her eyes at me, but looks away as she gets the needle ready for the stitch.
“Captured for information,” I breathe. “I’m Hulk.”
She quirks a brow. “I’m Avery. If Hulk is your legal name, your parents must have had a crystal ball with how big you turned out. Gonna hurt, so brace yourself.” She starts to stitch and I have to fight to hold myself still. Fuck, that hurts.
“Dad was big,” I rasp brokenly. “Take after him.”
We don’t speak again while she works, mostly because I don’t think I can. The pain is low, but the feel of the stitches makes my skin crawl.
When she finally finishes, she whispers, “You serious that you’re not here for doing some bad?”
“Information,” I repeat. “Devil’s Soldiers.”
Before she can react to that, the door is thrown open, and she starts to clean up the cut on my face. “What the fuck is taking so long?” Vlad snarls furiously.
“You told me to make sure he lives, and that’s what I’m doing,” my blue-scrubbed angel—no, her name isAvery—says so calmly that I almost want to smile. She seems so unruffled, but the slight worry in her eyes betrays her. She grabs a vial and fills a syringe. “I had to stitch up his back and check on his ribs. He has a few other wounds that are already infected, and with everything else, he’ll be dead by morning.” She moves around me, Vlad hot on her heels, face suspicious, as she pulls down the back of my jeans and quickly presses the needle into my ass cheek. “This is a double dose of antibiotics,” she tells him, tossing the syringe back into her bag. “He needs another dose in six hours. If he doesn’t, I guarantee nothing.”
“Then I suppose you’ll be paying us another visit in six hours, won’t you?” Vlad says. “You already know what will happen if he dies before I’m good and ready, Ms. Clarke. Perhaps you should stay here for the night to monitor him.”
