I don’t know how long I’ve been out. Night’s fallen again, so… maybe aday? Maybe more.
My mind’s a mess. Flashes of gunfire, Roman’s voice, Sean taking the bullet out, and then everything goes dark. But one thing slices through the haze.
Bryn.
She’s alive.
Not just alive, she’s in it. In the betrayal. In everything.She played us all.
I shove the covers off and stand, teeth clenched as I hold my shoulder. Pain flares. Good. Keeps me grounded.
I roll my neck, trying to work off the edge, but it’s no use. My body wants blood, revenge, something. I cross the room and yank the closet open; two sweaters hang there. I grab them, needing something to do with my hands.
One smells like her.
Aspen.
Fuck. If she comes for me, if she walks through that door, I need to be ready. I need to protect her—
The lock clicks, and I freeze as the door swings open.
Bryn walks in like nothing fucking happened.
Hair in soft waves over her shoulders, leggings hugging her hips, and a shirt clinging to her curves, thin enough that I can see the hard peaks of her nipples beneath it. No bra. I know what she’s doing, but it won’t work.
She’s pulling out every weapon she’s got, all those tricks meant to make me forget. To make mewanther.
I laugh to myself. If she thinks I’d lay a hand on her after what she did, she’s out of her fucking mind. I’d fuck a tree before I’dever touch her.
Fucking bitch.
“You’re up,” she says, stepping further into the room with a set of clean sheets folded in her arms.
“How long was I out?” I ask. My eyes stay locked on her. I don’t trust her, not for a damn second.
“Thirty-two hours.” She shrugs like that’s nothing. Like losing almost two days of my life is no big deal.
Fuck.
“Aspen?” Her name slips out, rougher than I meant it. My throat tightens, but I kill the crack in my voice before it escapes.
“No sign of her.” Bryn sounds softer now. “Knox probably caught up to her.”
Thank fuck!
She walks over, starts pulling the bloodied sheets from the bed, rolling them up like it’s just laundry, not evidence of how close I came to bleeding out.
I lean against the wall, exhaustion crawling up my spine, heavier with every breath.
“Why did you do this, Bryn?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
She looks up at me, eyes too steady.
“It was Ethan’s plan,” she says, but there is something in her tone, like she is hiding something or playing a part like an actress vying for an Oscar.
“He planned it for months. Long before we even arrived.”
“You could’ve warned us.” I watch her carefully, every moveshe makes as she smooths the new sheets over the mattress.
