Page 36 of Watched

Fuck.

Blade rounds the bed quietly, and I step to the other side as he raises a shaking hand to her face, lightly tucking golden strands behind her ear.

Dr Illya confirmed she won’t wake for a few hours, and I figured it best she is not aware of our presence. I didn’t want the sight of us to deteriorate her already fragile mental state further. Blade surprisingly agreed, and we came straight here from the airstrip.

On the flight here, he made me scroll through the last six months of photos on her IG, and I understood why he’s been monitoring it so attentively. She may be smiling in the photos, but you can see the life draining from her eyes. The most recent photo was taken two days ago at Lakely’s wedding, captioned, she’s married, but she’s still mine. The signs have been there, but I think this came a lot faster than even Blade was anticipating. If not for him, we’d be at her funeral instead.

He sucks in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly. A new emotion. I’ve never seen him cry.

“You can’t leave me, baby,” he whispers.

A year ago, him referring to her as such would have made my chest ache with jealousy. Now, I don’t feel that.

“You die, I die,” he whispers through his teeth, a tear in the corner of his eye. “Do you understand me, Alexa?”

He pulls down his sweatshirt and t-shirt a little, swiping two fingers across his chest, then holds them in front of her small button nose. It scrunches, and she whimpers, stirring a little. The numbers from her heart rate monitor jump from a steady sixty-two to ninety-five.

“Mmm,” he hums with a satisfied smile, “and you say I don’t have an effect on you.”

I throw my arm up. “She’s in a hospital bed, and you’re still tormenting her?”

“You are fucking beautiful.” He leans down to whisper in her ear. “Rest while you can, Lune.”

The door clicks open, and I look over my shoulder as Dr Illya steps in to approach the foot of her bed. His deep brown eyes are bloodshot, the faint light illuminating his ageing dark skin. “She’s doing well,” he whispers.

Blade’s gaze stays locked on her. “I want her in Alcove.”

Alcove was built a year ago by Weston & Myer, a rehab and psychiatric facility for people aged eighteen to thirty. Although our father no longer owns the building, he does have connections within it.

Dr Illya arches a brow. “You want me to admit her into a facility?”

“She’s denied rehab every time,” I inform quietly. “Although I don’t like the idea of her being admitted against her will, there are bountiful resources in Alcove.”

“You no longer have a say in anything regarding her,” Blade snaps quietly.

Dr Illya sighs and swipes a hand over his peppered dreadlocks. “I agree with you, but I’ve been her psychiatrist for a long time. We’re making progress in our sessions.”

“And yet she’s still smoking weed and felt the need to turn to Oxycodone again.” Blade stares at him. “That clearly speaks to your lack of credibility.”

“You aren’t her next of kin,” Dr Illya argues. “You have no ground to make these decisions for her.”

Blade gaze flicks to me. “Find her sister’s number. I’ll negotiate with Callie to sign me over as her legal guardian. I will not sit idly by and watch her kill herself. She refused rehab the five times you offered it, so now I’m taking away her option. She’s going, end of discussion.”

“Are you serious?” I groan as Blade kills the engine and lights, rolling into Alexa’s driveway. “We’re exposed in LA, and you want to put her in danger by going to her house?”

Ignoring me, he exits the car, casually walking to the side of the two-story modern house to open the gate.

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, following behind.

Imbecile. Fucking imbecile.

Stepping onto the back porch full of plants, a hammock tied between two poles and an outdoor lounge in the far corner, he dives his hand into his pocket to retrieve a key, jamming it into the lock of the glass door.

He snickers, pushing it open with his sleeve, and stalks in. “Should’ve changed your locks, baby girl.”

I drag a hand down my face and follow him, closing the door behind me.

Without so much as a flashlight, he steps past the kitchen and diverts right down the hall into her bedroom. His eyes close as he takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with her scent.