Page 74 of Irrevocably

He shouldn’t. He knows how badly I want to be released from my oaths, I’m not going to do anything that jeopardises that.

“But you didn’t tell them,” I say.

“No.” She sighs. “I knew you’d come, though, so I tried to stall them.”

I glance at her again, that hot, raw thing pulsing through me once more. She knew I’d come. Why? Why was she so certain after we said goodbye?

“You knew I’d come for the information you promised me,” I say, wanting to clarify.

“Well, that, and…” Her eyelashes flutter and lift, and she looks at me, her gaze darkness itself. “You came for me, too.”

I want to tell her she’s wrong, that this means nothing. That I’m concerned for her only so far, but it’s a lie I can’t bring myself to say. So, all I say is, “Your Hound came for you, too.”

She blinks. “Wolf? He was there?”

“He arrived at your house after you were taken,” I say. “I’m assuming to see if you were okay. He managed to get the plate of the van you were in and there was a GPS tracker on it. We followed that to the factory.”

She nods, her eyes fluttering closed again. “They’re using me, Luc,” she whispers. “My life is being held over Dad’s head.”

My body is tight, every single muscle demanding action. I want to get my gun and kill. Kill everyone who thought they could use her life as a bargaining chip. But that life is what keeps that operation running without police interference. Her fucking life. And that life will continue to be held over the chief’s head, because that’s what Lazarus wants. It’s what Enzo wants, too.

The price of that operation continuing for the foreseeable future is her.

I shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t bother me. Yet pressure is building inside me, a pressure that I can’t seem to push away or get rid of. Her life matters to me for some reason, and the fact that it will be continually under threat is unacceptable.

“Where is Dad, anyway?” she asks, her voice slurring a little.

I step on the gas, going faster. I need to get her home. “Your Hellhound friend cut him loose. Don’t speak, Tinkerbell. I’m getting you somewhere where I can treat that wound of yours and get you some pain relief.”

“Mmm,” she mutters. “That would be good.”

I shut my mouth and keep driving, while she slumps against the passenger window. She doesn’t speak again until I’m driving through the gates and pulling up outside the house.

She stirs and looks out the windows, frowning slightly. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere safe,” I say.

I get out, grab her out of the car, too, then carry her inside, heading for the main bathroom where the first-aid kit is. It’s not a basic kit. It’s got everything you might need to treat all kinds of injuries – needles, thread, hard painkillers, bandages, scalpels. The works.

She snuggles against my chest as I carry her down the main hallway like a small cat curling up in a basket. She believes she’s safe, but safe is the last thing she is, and never has been.

Renewed fury burns inside me, but I shove it aside. There’s no time for inconvenient emotions, no matter how unexpectedly strong they are.

The bathroom is big and tiled in black marble. There’s a huge black marble vanity that I sit her on top of before grabbing the kit from the cupboard. Inside there’s a syringe full of anaesthetic that I’ll use as a nerve blocker. I’ve used it before, on myself and on others, and I have enough medical knowledge to do basic, battleground first aid.

I take out the syringe and take her injured hand gently in mine. “This is a nerve blocker,” I say. “It’ll help with the pain. I need to clean the wound and sew it up.”

She blinks at me, her face dead white. She’s going into shock, which means I need to deal with this and fast, then get her warm. “Okay,” she whispers.

Without a word, I inject the anaesthetic and she shivers but makes no sound. Once I’ve administered it, I wait for it to take effect, searching for something to say that will comfort and maybe distract her. It’s difficult since giving comfort is not something I’m used to.

“I know you like pain,” I say at last. “But this is ridiculous.”

Her expression eases, her mouth curving in the faintest smile, and that hot, raw, painful emotion spreads through me like wildfire. “So, let me guess. You’re a doctor as well as being good with a gun?”

“No, but I have some basic knowledge. I’ve sewn up people before, including myself.”

“No hospital, then?”