Page 75 of Hostile Saint

My body tensed. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“Going under.”

Such suspicious words had me paranoid. I could barely swallow. Slowly, I turned to the window I had just crawled through and stared at the opening, ready to leap with her in my arms, even if it meant broken bones. “Under where?”

Lazily, she lifted her hand and slightly waved it back and forth. “Watch my finger. Listen to my voice…”

“Hypnosis?” Is he doing this to restore her memory?

“Tate, do you think,” as if suddenly afraid again, she whispered, “the shadows are real?”

I do. “What does your doctor say?”

“That they can’t hurt him. For me not to be afraid.”

Fucking fool. “Do you ever see them when you’re not with Doc?”

Her head became heavier on my shoulder. “No, but I… feel them. Does that make sense?”

I rocked her in my arms, soaking up the sensation of holding her so close. “It does. It does.”

She let out a sweet little moan. “You make me feel safe. I’m always so afraid, but not when you’re here.”

My lips pressed hard to her forehead. I love you, Lacey Young.

Before she fell to sleep, she whispered, “I wish you could be with me tomorrow—” Her mouth stopped moving, and heavy breaths passed her perfect lips.

I can’t say how long I stood there, holding that angel, but I didn’t let go until my arms began to tremble with exhaustion. Not willing to risk dropping her, I finally laid her in her bed.

After covering her up, I noticed her journal, open. Handwritten words cried out for me to read them…

Will I ever find peace? Or forever be on my knees?

There is no rhyme, no reason, for all this unknown treason

Memories must be found

Or I shall never be sound

Touching her silky hair, I whispered, “You will be sound again.” I grazed the scar on the left side of her neck that matched mine on my right. “Memories will be found.” My fingers caressed her forehead. “This will find me again because,” my fingers touched her chest, “this heart of yours already has.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Making Footprints

As I approached the men waiting for me in the woods, Lynx’s grey eyes were inquisitive. “What’s wrong?”

Hands that ached to still be holding Lace were opening and closing. My jaw felt restrained. “Her doc is hypnotizing her tomorrow.” I rolled my neck, fighting agitation. “He drugged her tonight.”

Blowing out air, Dagger crossed his arms, his expression full of empathetic frustration. “I hate that fuckin’ with your head shit. If her mind don’t want to remember, it has good reasons.”

With his words voicing my growing anger, I nodded. “I think that is exactly how I feel. It just don’t feel right.”

I looked back at Lynx to see a feral expression. His nostrils were wide. Eyes burning for a place to set fire. “That little girl don’t need no one fucking with her coconut.”

It was safe to say my Prez and VP had limits to their faith in doctors. It was one thing to have a professional help her through a process. It was a whole other thing for the pro to be prying.

I growled, “Feels like an invasion.”