Page 319 of Wicked Brutal

“She was slammed into a wall. She was bleeding on the ground. We’ve answered the same questions six times. We’ve waited. We’ve signed everything you put in front of us. And I am asking you one question.”

“Ryan.” Darla.

I turn on her. “I need to know.”

Her eyes are red. She’s been crying since we got here. Stopped for a while. Now they’re wet again. “I know.”

“I can’t just sit here. I need to do something.”

Her face crumples for half a second before she gets it back under control. Then she nods toward the bed. “Hold Ally’s hand.”

I look down. I’m already holding it. Both of mine wrapped around hers. I didn’t even realize. Darla looks at them too. “Then keep doing that.”

My jaw clenches. “That’s not enough.”

“No.” Her voice breaks. “It doesn’t feel like it is.”

I look at Ally. Her eyes are closed now. A tear slides down the side of her face and disappears into her hair.

Mom wipes it away. “You don’t have to look, sweetheart.”

“I can’t.”

“Then don’t.”

“What if—“ Ally stops. Mom’s face folds. “What if there’s nothing?” Nobody answers. Ally opens her eyes. Not toward the screen. Toward me. “What if our baby died too?”

I lean in close, both hands still around hers, and press my mouth to her knuckles before I answer. “Look at me.” She does. “I’m right here. Whatever that screen says, I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”

Her mouth trembles. “My mom died.”

“I know, baby.”

“I watched her die.”

“I know.”

“And now they won’t tell us anything.”

“I know.” My voice drops. “I can’t hear you say the other part. Not because you’re wrong to be scared — because I’m so scared I can’t breathe, and if you say it out loud I’m going to come apart, and you need me in one piece right now.”

Her fingers tighten around mine. “You don’t know they’re alive.”

“No.” I bring her hand back to my mouth. “I don’t. There’s nothing I can hack or steal or threaten to make myself know faster, and it’s killing me.” My lips shake against her skin. “But I love you. Both of you. And I’m not letting go of this hand until they tell us.”

A sob catches in her throat. “I love you.” She barely gets it out. “I’m so scared, Ryan.”

“Me too.” She looks at me — maybe because I said it. Maybe because I finally stopped pretending there’s anything left in me that isn’t terrified. “I am so fucking scared, Ally.” I kiss her hand again. “But I’ve got you. No matter what.”

Her eyes close. “I want my mom.” Mom makes a sound. Small. Broken. She turns her face away for a second.

“I know, baby,” Mom whispers.

“She’d know what to say.” Mom’s chin shakes. “She was always scared. Even when she pretended she wasn’t.” Ally cries harder.

Mom presses Ally’s hand against her cheek. Nobody tells her Jane is watching. Nobody tells her Jane is in a better place. Nobody tells her Jane would want her to be strong.

Thank God. Because I think Ally would scream.