Page 43 of Hunt You Down

Yes, please. I opened my mouth to talk, but nothing came out. My lungs seized. I coughed, trying to breathe. I managed to nod, and then everything went dark.

Chapter Nineteen

My memory after that was fuzzy. I vaguely remembered André’s voice and the space getting crowded, but I couldn’t make out any words—from anyone. The only thing after that was flashing lights, and I was waking up in… a hospital. My breathing heightened, lungs burning as they tried to remember how to function. A machine next to me beeped erratically with my increasing heart rate.

No. There was no way it was all a dream. I couldn’t possibly have made it all up—couldn’t have made him up.

A hand brushed my hair back. Pressure on my face secured the annoying mask I was trying to rip free. My gaze shot up, meeting a pair of deep green eyes.

Thank God.

“I’m here, baby,” André whispered. I latched onto his arm with my fingers. He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, and combed through my hair with his fingers.

Slowly—very slowly—my breathing returned to normal and the machine slowed its incessant beeping. Someone else grabbed my free hand. Dylan?

I didn’t have a chance to speak before a doctor rushed in, shining a light in my eyes and making me follow her finger and blah, blah, blah. All the typical stuff that came after a head injury which apparently I had? Waking up without a headache was a rarity for me. When I mentioned that my head hurt, no one was surprised.

She finished the irritating exam and left the room, muttering something about reviewing a scan before I could go home. I tugged the mask from my face so I could speak. “What happened?”

Ow. Talking hurt.

Like he couldn’t get close enough, André moved to the edge of the uncomfortable mattress, keeping a tight grip on my hand. “You said you needed the bathroom,” he said. “Mitchell went in behind you and said you fainted. You’ve got a concussion and five stitches on your temple. They kept you overnight for observation.”

I scanned the room until I found Dylan, who had clearly made himself right at home in the plastic chair. His golden hair stood in all directions and he was on the verge of dozing off. I couldn’t say I was surprised; he was no stranger to these visits.

“When did you get here?”

“About an hour ago. Did you really think something like this wasn’t going to bring me out here?” He pulled himself from the chair, tossing his hospital-issued blanket aside. “I’m going to find some coffee.”

Once he was gone André’s face turned somber. “There’s something else, baby. Something I didn’t want to say in front of your brother.”

“What is it?” My chest heaved, that beeping picking up once more.

André’s grip tightened on my hand. “Try and relax baby, you don’t need to make your heart rate jump again.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead, instantly soothing me. Damn, he’s getting good at that.

When the panic attack passed, André returned to the chair, giving me space to readjust myself on the bed.

André shifted around in his seat, taking a deep breath and scrubbing his hands over his face. When he spoke, his voice was muffled through his fingers. “They took your blood when you came in, and they found GHB in your system.”

My throat dried out, and I coughed. André hastened to hand me the cup of water on the bedside table.

Regan’s trademark. It wasn’t my first experience with it, but it was definitely my worst. Though it begged the question: how did he do it?

“H-How?” I stammered.

“The bartender. He got about thirty people, including you and Amanda.”

Amanda? “The baby⁠—”

“Charlotte Josephine is here and perfectly healthy.” André smiled. “She went into distress, so they rushed her into a cesarean.”

I let out a sigh of relief. I would have never been able to forgive myself if something happened to anyone else.

Because of course Regan couldn’t leave other people out of it. No, it would have been too targeted that way. The bartender was likely someone Regan had bonded out in the past who owed him a favor. He would turn a blind eye when someone missed a court date or failed a drug test, but he was only building an army for himself. He was creating people who would do whatever he said so they didn’t have to go back to jail.

André’s squirming distracted me from my thoughts. It was then that I noticed the empty cups next to him. “Have you left that chair at all?”

He bit his cheek. “I sat on your bed a minute ago.”