Chapter 3

I open my eyes in a hospital bed.

"Nina. Nina."

I lurch upright and knock a bowl of soup out of Damon's hands.

His face goes dark. But he doesn't snap. He grabs a tissue and starts wiping the broth off my chest.

I grab his wrist hard enough to feel the bones.

"Where is she. Tell me."

He looks down. He doesn't answer.

The stitches in my side rip open. I can't breathe through the pain, but I drag myself off the bed anyway and start for the door.

He catches me. Pulls me against his chest. His voice is low, fighting something.

"She's in surgery, Selene. Quit making it worse. The second she wakes up, I'll bring you to her. Just rest. Please."

For the next two weeks, Damon gives me the best medical team money can buy. Sometimes he sits with me himself.

He shows me pictures of Nina on his phone. Tubes everywhere. Tiny chest. Then he tries to spoon-feed me soup.

I keep my mouth shut.

He doesn't get mad. He takes a sip himself, leans in, and pushes it past my lips with his own.

I wipe my mouth and shove the bowl back at him.

He blinks. Doesn't say a word.

He's been weirdly patient with me lately.

Until the day Chloe comes to visit.

He bursts through the door and finds her on the floor. Cheeks flushed pink. Palms sliced up on broken glass.

His whole body shakes. The look he turns on me has nothing soft left in it.

"Selene. Have you lost your mind?"

He scoops Chloe up against his chest. His eyes are bloodshot.

"Apologize. Now."

The old me would already be on her knees.

But Nina is somewhere in this building fighting for her life because of this woman. I can't bow to her. I won't.

I don't move.

His face turns to stone.

"Have I been going easy on you? You think you get to tell me no now?"

I ignore him. I turn around and start walking back to the bed.

His voice cuts the air behind me.

"One more step and I pull Nina's plug myself."

My foot freezes in midair. My nails dig through the hospital gown into my skin.

These last two weeks, I almost let myself believe he felt guilty about Nina. I was an idiot.

The Damon who used to carry Nina around on his shoulders, who taught her how to throw her first jab, that man died the day Chloe Vance walked through the door.

I turn around. I bow at the waist in front of her.

"On your knees."

My legs give out. I drop. I press my forehead to the cold tile.

When I look up, Damon has Chloe's face in his hands and he's kissing her like I'm not even in the room.

I keep saying it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

By the time my voice cracks, they finally come up for air.

He scoffs at me. Scoops Chloe up. Rushes her toward the ER.

The second his back disappears down the hallway, the tears come. Hard. Hot. Out of nowhere.

I press a hand against my chest. I dig the notebook out of the drawer.

I write two words.

The cage.

A man's voice behind me.

"What are you writing?"