Finn holds his gaze, unblinking. “It is today.”
Silence stretches.
Money and influence move faster than argument.
The officer exhales sharply and stands. “Fine. But if he deteriorates?—”
“He won’t,” I say.
They all look at me then.
My voice doesn’t shake.
Because something inside me has locked into place. After a pause, they nod.
The officers finish their sweep quickly after that. Statements are wrapped. The gun is bagged. The syringe is collected carefully, though I don’t look at it again. I don’t look at the sheet covering my father either, nor do I watch when his body is removed.
When the front door finally closes behind them and the flashing lights disappear from the windows, the house falls into a thick, oppressive quiet.
Sol slumps back down onto the sofa. His shirt has been cut away at the side by one of the twins. Blood stains the waistband of his trousers.
“You’re pale,” Kai mutters.
“I’m fine.”
He’s not.
But he’s upright. Ish.
And he hasn’t taken his eyes off me.
The burn under my skin has intensified now that the immediate threat is gone. The fear that triggered it has transformed into something else – something deeper and more focused. My scent fills the room without my permission.
Kai inhales sharply.
Koa goes still.
Finn’s eyes flick to me in understanding.
“She’s spiking,” Kai says quietly.
“I know,” Sol replies.
Despite the pain etched on his features, he reaches for me anyway. His hand finds the back of my neck, fingers warm and steady – which surprises me. If our roles were reversed I’d be shaking like a leaf for sure.
“If you leave,” I whisper, “it will get worse, won’t it?”
His thumb brushes against my skin. “That’s why I’m not leaving.”
The bond tightens at the words.
Not violently.
Securely.
The front door opens again, and this time it’s not the police.
The private medic Finn arranged enters with a compact bag and no questions. He works quickly and efficiently, cleaning and stitching the wound, while Finn stands nearby answering whatever documentation is required.