“You okay?”
I nod.
Jamie groans then and tries to get up.
Kyle’s on him. A knee is on Jamie’s back as he cuffs him.
He comes up to me and takes the cast iron pan I still seem to be holding.
I’ve started shaking now.
“Faith?” I hear Cain yell.
Loud footsteps come racing up the stairs. He bursts through the door, sees the blood, the broken lamp, Jamie cuffed.
He comes to me and wraps me in his arms. I slump against him.
“You hurt?”
“No.”
But then he lifts my hand, and I cry out.
“Fuck, Faith, we need to get you to the hospital.”
“I’m not broken,” I whisper.
“No, baby, you’re not.”
Kyle chuckles. “Your girlfriend is a bad ass, Cain. I’d be careful to never piss her off.”
A laugh busts out of me, short, hysterical.
I hear sirens.
“They’re here,” Kyle announces. “I called it in right after I got your text message.”
“The EMTs are here, sweet thing.” He hugs me close. I soak up his warmth.
“I’m safe,” I murmur.
“Yes, Faith. You saved yourself. You always have.”
28
WEIGHT OF JUSTICE
CAIN
Hospitals smell like endings. Like antiseptic ghosts and regret baked into linoleum. I sit beside her bed and watch Faith breathe. Slow. Steady. A little bruised. A lot alive.
Her wrist is sprained and needs rest for at least a week. Her shoulder has a massive bruise—that’s going to take the time it takes. She’s going to be sore.
She did it. She stopped him.
Jamie Da Silva’s in the hospital as well. But he’s chained to a bed. He has extensive injuries. My girl beat the shit out of him. I couldn’t be prouder.
They release her when she bitches and whines that she wants to be home.
