Page 126 of Zeus

The guy's anger slips away. "He's going to be okay."

"This is fine," I say. "Thank you for your service and for getting us here safely."

The guy dips his head in assurance before climbing out from behind the wheel and coming around to open the back doors of the ambulance.

"Sorry," I mutter to the guy as they pull the stretcher out of the back.

"Don't be," he says, his eyes locked on mine. "We all have our roles to play."

"Semper," I say, getting a feeling about this man.

"Fi," he says before handing Zayne off to hospital staff and getting back in his rig to head back to the compound.

Chapter 39

Zayne

I grunt in pain as I walk down the stairs, each step I take rattling something inside of me that feels like it's no longer connected the way it's supposed to be.

I have been handed my fair share of ass-whippings in my lifetime, but this may be the worst one yet.

The hospital kept me twelve hours, and if I hadn't insisted on going home, they probably would've kept me longer.

Besides the bumps, bruises, and cuts, my biggest concerns are the aftereffects of the drugs they pumped into my system and the two bruised ribs that make themselves known with every breath.

I never considered myself a vain person until I got home a few hours ago and looked in the mirror.

Swelling has gone down in both eyes, but my left eye took nearly every hit they issued to my face. It still has a way to go before I can see out of it, even a little.

I went through X-rays, a CT scan, blood draws, and I'm sure they did a fast ultrasound in the ER, trying to determine if I had internal bleeding.

I feel like death, but the doctors assured me that I was far from it, except for the drugs.

The memories of it have come back in waves, the drugs doing nothing to wipe them fully from my memory.

Scott, walking into the room, put more fear into me than anything else. I could die from a beating, but the things I knew ran through his head when he wanted to hurt someone is a fear no one should have to face, much less experience.

Thankfully, the sick bastard didn't even mention it, despite every derogatory word he could pull from his bigoted head flying out of his fucking mouth.

The second I clear the bottom step, I'm met with angry eyes.

"You're supposed to be in fucking bed," Zeus growls.

"Can't sleep," I grumble.

"Sleep and rest aren't the same thing," Zeus clarifies.

"I can't rest, either," I argue as I make my way to the couch.

I realize I may have made a huge mistake when I look down and see that the couch looks like it's literally sitting on the floor with the effort it will require to sit on the damn thing.

"You could've stayed upstairs," he says as he places the bowl of soup he came down to get, which he insisted I eat before he left his room.

The guy acts like I was some sort of prisoner of war who had been abused for months, rather than the guy who missed meals for a single day.

"What time is it?" I grumble, an attempt to hide my pain as I drop down to the couch.

I may end up having to fucking live here because getting up by myself will be impossible, and I'll be damned if I'm going to ask for fucking help.