Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 71949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
The hallway smells like more disinfectant. When we step into the small lab room, I see the chair.
“Left arm or right?” the nurse asks, snapping on gloves.
“Left,” I whisper.
The tourniquet bites into my bicep. I look away as she cleans my skin with an alcohol pad, but the sharp smell triggers another rush of memory—the sterile reek of my father’s office, the cold barrel of his gun, the screams in the hallway.
I grip the edge of the chair, trying to steady my breathing.
The needle slides in, and I watch as my blood fills the vial.
Blood.
So much of my life has involved blood.
Hawk stands beside me, silent. His hand is on my shoulder, but I feel like I’m floating out of my own body.
Because now, watching that blood swirl in the vial, I can’t stop thinking about the girl with the braid.
She had Belinda’s face.
When I met Belinda for the first time, she was standing in the bright kitchen of Raven and Vinnie’s house with a shy smile and curious eyes. I thought my heart was going to stop. I knew it wasn’t possible, but God, she looked just like her. The same round cheeks, the same tilt of the chin, even the same color of hair.
It hit me then, that maybe this was God’s way of giving me a chance to make things right. To protect the innocent this time.
I swore I’d keep her safe. That I’d never let another monster touch her.
And I failed.
Because I wasn’t paying attention. Because I was with Hawk, or I was focused on my own troubles and the cryptic gifts.
The guilt is so heavy I almost miss the nurse’s voice.
“That’s it,” she says, smiling behind her mask. “You did great.”
She tapes gauze over my arm and writes something on the label before dropping the vial into a tray.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“Normally, this type of test takes about two weeks, but we can expedite the process. With the arrangement you’ve requested”—the nurse nods to Hawk—“we should be able to have results in three to five days.”
Three to five days. My stomach drops.
“That’s not fast enough,” Hawk snaps before I can speak. His voice has that dangerous edge—the one that warns people not to push him. “You said you could fast-track it.”
The nurse doesn’t flinch. “Mr. Bellamy, I assure you, this is the fastest it can be done. We’re talking about analyzing DNA. It’s not something we can rush without risking error. You wouldn’t want a false result, would you?”
Hawk grits his jaw. “I don’t want a delayed one either.”
I close my eyes for a second. He’s doing this because he cares for me. Because waiting feels like a hundred years.
“Three days is the absolute minimum. I understand this is stressful, but I give you my word—we’ll make it our top priority.”
Hawk exhales through his teeth. He’s not used to hearing the word no. He’s not used to being helpless.
He finally nods. “Fine. Just…call the second you have anything.”
“Of course.”
The nurse stands and slips out, leaving us in the too-small room with its humming fluorescent lights and white walls. The air feels different once she’s gone. Thicker somehow.
Hawk reaches for my hand, his fingers warm. “You okay?”
I nod automatically. “I’m fine.”
I’m not fine. I’m a live wire inside my own skin. But if I tell him that, he’ll worry even more. He already looks like he’s bracing to hold the sky up for me.
So I pretend.
And he lets me.
For now.
Hawk helps me up, his hand steady at my elbow.
We walk back down the hallway in silence. I feel his eyes on me, worried, searching, but I keep my gaze fixed ahead. If I look at him too long, I’ll break.
Back in the waiting room, I glance again at the shelf of dusty books. My chest tightens.
“You sure you’re okay?” Hawk asks again.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
I swallow. “About how some rooms never leave you,” I say. “No matter how far you run.”
He nods, like he understands, but he doesn’t. Not really.
He doesn’t know what it’s like to be sixteen, to have your father hand you a choice that tears your soul in half. To live every day since then trying to atone for it.
He doesn’t know that tomorrow morning, while he’s still asleep, I’ll drive to that address in the pink envelope and offer myself to the man who helped ruin my life in exchange for the girl I swore to protect.
He doesn’t know that every time he looks at me like I’m something precious, I feel the weight of what I’ve done pressing harder on my chest.
And he doesn’t know that no matter what that vial of blood reveals—whether I’m dying or not—I’ve already decided how my story ends.
I’ll trade my life for Belinda’s.
Gladly.
But tonight…
Tonight, I’ll let myself have one more moment of peace. One more night of warmth before the cold takes over again. This time forever.