“Back at the cabin, she got away from me after a while,” he said. “Stole the key and escaped.”

Sean stared at him, face blank. “What happened?”

“She came back.” He didn’t doubt it now. The last few days he’d been wondering, unsure, but no longer. Ros had made her choice and turned back. She’d chosen him.

“Why?” Sean asked.

“Honestly?” He gave the man a grim, unhappy smile, and told him the absolute truth. “I don’t know.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Roslyn woke slowly. Someone was talking nearby, a woman. A man answered her, his voice low and smooth. Neither voice was familiar. Her brain felt floaty-light and her mouth tasted weird. Above her sat a white ceiling and below a bed with clean cotton sheets. She had a drip in her arm.

“Wha—?” Her tongue didn’t want to work. She swallowed and tried again. “Where am …”

“You’re awake.” A woman appeared above her, blocking out some of the ceiling. She had long black hair and a kind smile. “How do you feel?”

The man wandered closer. He looked like a Viking. A big, blond, frowny-faced Viking. How funny.

Roslyn tried to grin. The most she could manage was a lazy smile. Her face wouldn’t follow directions. “Hey.”

“Let me get you a drink.” The woman grabbed a glass from the bedside table. Roslyn heard water being poured. Beneath her the mattress moved as the woman sat down. “Slowly, alright?”

Water had never tasted so good.

The room was spartan, basic but clean, with a bed and a table, a couple of chairs. A butt-ugly picture of puppies hung on the wall opposite. Who could make puppies ugly? How did someone even do that?

“Roslyn?” The Viking hovered at the end of the bed, handsome face still very serious. “We need to talk to you about Nick.”

“Nick?” She tried to sit up. It took a few goes with the woman assisting her before she made it upright. All of her strength seemed to have been sapped right out of her. “Where is he?”

“It’s alright,” said the man. “You’re safe. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Viking dude looked so concerned, eyes intense. It made no sense to her. “What?”

The pretty black-haired woman huffed. “Now is not the time for this, Sean. You’re distressing her.”

Ros opened her mouth to intervene, to explain she wasn’t distressed, just clueless, but they were already off and arguing. It felt as though she wasn’t even there.

“We need to know what happened,” said the Viking. “I’ve explained this to you already.”

Lila faced down the big man, hands on hips. “Sean.“

“Lila.”

“I’ve explained this to you already, too. It can wait.”

“No it can’t. It’s important.”

“What’s important is giving her time to recover. You’ve got your priorities wrong, buster.” Lila gave him the evil eye. Clearly Sean was used to this, since he stared back calmly. Neither of them made much sense. But then nothing about this did. Her head felt useless and her body little better. What the hell was going on with the world now?

“Can I have some more water, please?” she asked when she could get a word in.

“Sure. You’ve woken up a couple of times, but always drifted back off to sleep straight away.” Lila held the glass once more to her lips. “Do you remember?”

“No.” Everything in her head was a muddy haze.

“Don’t worry. It’ll come back to you.”

“Where’s Nick?” Ros repeated for like the tenth time. Tingles raced across her skin as she tested her limbs, rolling her feet and scrunching her toes, shrugging her shoulders. Pain rolled through her. “Oh!”

“Be careful,” said Lila. “Don’t you remember? You were shot. Two days ago now.”

Someone had shot her? Seriously? Oh, yeah. She remembered it vaguely, distantly. There’d been a fight.

“Ri-i-i-ght. When I drove the car into the wall.” She was dressed in a plain white tank top with soft gray flannel pyjama pants on her bottom half. A square white bandage sat taped onto her skin below her left collarbone. It all came back slowly, sinking into her foggy head and falling into place. There was a crinkly little bandaid on her left ear, too. Shot twice—right. “We were with Justin and Pete.”

They both watched her, waiting.

Justin and Pete and that horrible little house she’d basically destroyed—now there was an unpleasant memory. Even buffered by the drugs, it turned her stomach. “They were … nasty bastards. I killed one of them. I’ve never killed anyone before. There was a lot of blood.”

She searched herself for a hint of remorse and came up short. The lack of guilt made her feel guilty, but she’d live with it.

Sean scowled. “I should have killed all three of them when I had the chance.”

Huh?

Whatever. “Where’s Nick?”

“You’re safe. They locked him up,” said Lila. “How’s your pain? Do you need something more? Give me a number between one and ten.”

It hurt, but it was more of a dull ache than anything. It had just caught her by surprise at first. Plus, something more would probably throttle her last coherent brain cell. Her inability to think in a straight line bugged her worse than the pain. “I’m okay. Someone took out the bullet?”