Maddoc is still nowhere to be found despite the army the Brayshaws have out looking, and no one has said a word regarding the whereabouts of my mother’s rotting corpse. Rolland calls Royce several times a day, and Mac says Collins has been sniffing around in our absence.

I turn back to Captain right as the nurse steps in with a small bow.

“He’s still so pale,” I rasp, running my fingers along the stark white sheets, pausing before my hand meets his. “Why?”

“He lost a lot of blood, had to have a transfusion, and his body is still recovering, rebuilding strength and coming down from the shock,” she says quietly as she pushes buttons on the screen beside him. “His color will come back soon, more and more each time he wakes.” She offers a small smile when I glance to her. “Your husband is strong.” I tense but she doesn’t catch it. “He was fighting to wake before surgery began. It took a lot to put him under, that’s why it’s taking him longer to come to fully.”

“He has a lot to live for.”

She gives a small wink. “More than he realizes.”

I frown but then a thought hits. “Wait... his blood type.” My brows lower. “He’s mentioned it was rare.”

“Very,” she agrees, grabbing her clipboard and turning to me. “Luckily, everything on this floor is designated for Brayshaw and whom they, whom you, allow. We have all five of your blood types in stock, just in case.”

Five.

My eyes slice to Royce who jerks his chin in a nod. They know about Zoey here, but...

“Where did mine come from?”

She gives a tight smile, her age showing around her eyes when she does. “I drew every blood bag we have in our storage myself. Every bag but yours. Yours were delivered, and then tested for security reasons. They were cleared and stored following the result.”

“Delivered by who?”

“Estella Graven.”

“Collins’ mom,” I whisper, cutting a quick glance from Royce to Bass.

Makes sense I guess, she’s their maid, likely runs in circles doing whatever the hell they need, but wait. “When, exactly, did the blood bags get delivered?”

She pauses to think, then turns to her rolling computer. “Let’s see,” she muses, pushing some buttons. “Almost two months ago.”

Right when we signed away our lives.

“Go,” Royce tells her.

She nods and walks out as I bury my face in my hands trying to process.

“Raven,” Royce edges.

“He went to her,” I whisper.

“Raven.”

My eyes hit his.

“Donley went to her, or he had someone.”

“Maybe it’s an age-old thing, something all the families do?” Royce suggests, but tension lines his brows.

I push to my feet, shaking my head. “But... he’d have to know where to find her to get it.” My eyes find his.

Did he know where she was all along?

Royce shifts to the edge of the couch not following.

I lick my lips looking between the three of them. My mother’s glossy grey eyes flash before mine. I give a hard blink to erase it. “She said she wouldn’t let them have another piece of her.”

“What... you?” Royce whispers.

I shrug, but it takes effort, my muscles are tense, my stomach queasy. I swallow past the bile fighting its way up.

“But they didn’t have her.” His brows drop low, eyes coming back to mine. “Right?”

Sweat builds across my upper lip and I blow air across it, fanning myself in an attempt to cool my body temperature.

I vaguely register Bass asking someone for a cool rag before the chilled item touches my skin.

I open my eyes, finding his narrowed on me. “Breathe through your nose.”

“Back the fuck up, man!” Royce shoves at him, taking his place. “I fucking got her.” He glowers.

Bass doesn’t fight him on it and moves for his place at the door.

Royce turns back to me with a rundown expression. “Are you okay?”

My eyes move between his, and I force a whisper he won’t want to hear pass my lips. “I need to go.”

His eyes harden. “I’m coming with you.”

I shake my head and he jerks away from me.

“You go, I fucking go, Raven,” he growls, but fear burns in his eyes.

“You can’t,” I breathe. “He’ll wake up again soon. He can’t be alone when he does.”

“He needs you here just as much, maybe more. You’re his wife,” he spits the word with a nasty edge. “Or are you running with this new information that might not mean shit, so you can pretend the last few days never fucking happened if it does?”

Bass’s footsteps sound behind me and Royce’s head shoots up, his lip curling. “I fucking dare you, bitch.” His chest rumbles with his words.

“Wait in the hall. Both of you,” I say, not taking my eyes off Royce who won’t take his off Bass.

As soon as the door swings open and closed, I reach out, gripping Royce’s face, forcing his eyes to mine.

His harsh exhales grow deeper. He’s hurting, angry. I deserve so much worse than a few heated words he’ll feel like shit over later.

“If he wakes up, tell him I’ll be back.” My eyes bounce between his. “I will be back, Royce. I’m not leaving you.”

“And if you find answers that change things, then what?” he spits. “You pretend nothing ever happened?”

My face must say it all, because in the next second his falls, his features screaming his honest truth – he wanted me to say yes, that it would all change, go back to how it was, but Captain is in this bed because I asked him to join me in mine, and sooner than we promised to.

How could I possibly turn my back on him when he so quickly gave his for mine?

I couldn’t.

“How am I supposed to let you walk out of here not knowing what you’re walking into? My brother would fucking kill me.” His chest caves as mine does, and he cuts a quick glance away. “Both of them. Not that they’d have to. I’d fuck my own self up.”

I swallow. “Bass will help me.”

“Fuck him,” he spits, angrily. “I hate him. I hate him near you, I fucking hate him around and I plan to make sure it’s mutual. I’m gonna fuck him over, one way or another for good measure.” He glares. “He’s not me. He can’t protect you like I can. He wouldn’t die for you like I would.”

I give a tight smile. “I know.” I step against him, pulling his head down to mine. “I know, but I need you to stay with him. Be here for him while I can’t be, while Maddoc isn’t. I need you, ponyboy, but he needs you more right now. Please.”

Royce’s facial muscles constrict, and he drops his forehead to mine. A sad scoffed laugh leaves him, his hands finding my hips. “Problem child’s sayin’ please?” he teases, closing his eyes.

A small laugh escapes. “Guess I am.”

His jaw clamps shut, but he leans in, kissing the corner of my mouth before pulling back, his dark lashes low. “He’s gone if you come back with so much as an added scratch. Make sure that’s clear.”

I agree, moving for the door.