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With a lean, he pulled the duvet out from under their legs and over them, turned off the lamp and eased back into the pillows.

He thought of that man out walking the grounds and nearly growled. Fuck. This. Shit. Either it was a local with a passkey, or a staff member who could jimmy the lock.

Assuming anything had happened at all. Which she seemed less and less sure of—

Whatever. They were leaving in the morning and that was that.

He frowned in the darkness. “Holly?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you think it was Rathboone.”

She yawned widely. “Because he looked exactly like the portrait in the living room.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

Down in the exam room at the underground clinic, John stood before Xhex and felt utterly powerless to help her. As she sat screaming on the stainless-steel table, her arms strained against her hold on the sheet, and her face stretched long, her mouth tearing open, red tears spilling out of her eyes and falling down her white cheeks. . . . And he could do nothing about any of it.

He knew the rough place she was in. Knew that he couldn’t possibly reach the well that she was down at the bottom of: He’d been there himself. He knew exactly what it was like to trip and fall and be in agony from hard impact . . . even though your body technically hadn’t gone anywhere.

The only difference was that she had a voice to give her pain wings.

As his ears rang and his heart broke for her, he stayed strong against the gale force she let loose. After all, there was a reason why here and hear were separated by so little and sounded one like the other. Bearing witness to her, he heard her and was there for her because that was all you could do during a fall apart.

But God, it pained him to see how she suffered. Pained him and focused him, Lash’s face gathering like a ghost taking physical form in John’s mental eye. As she screamed and screamed, he vowed vengeance until his heart beat not blood, but the need for revenge.

And then Xhex took a series of big breaths. And a couple more.

“I think I’m done with that,” she said roughly.

He waited a moment to make sure. When she nodded, he took out his pad and wrote quickly.

As he flashed the page to her, her eyes went to the writing and it took her a couple of tries to get the gist.

“Can I wash my face first?”

He nodded and went over to the stainless-steel sink. Running a stream of cool water, he got a clean towel from a stack and wet it before returning to her. As she held out her hands, he put the damp cloth in her palms and watched as she slowly pressed it against her face. It was hard to see her so frail and he thought back to how he had always known her: strong, powerful, edged-out.

Her hair had grown longer and was starting to curl up at the ends, suggesting that if she didn’t cut it, it would have a thick wave in the length. God, he wanted to touch the softness.

His eyes moved down to the table and abruptly popped wide. The sheet had twisted out from under her . . . and there was a dark spot on the towels that had been wrapped around her hips.

As he inhaled deeply, he caught the scent of fresh blood and was surprised he hadn’t before. Then again, he’d been pretty fucking distracted.

Oh . . . Christ. She was bleeding . . .

He tapped her lightly on the arm and mouthed, Doc Jane.

Xhex nodded. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”

Frantic, John stalked over to the door of the exam room. Out in the hall, there was a legion of worried faces, with Doc Jane at the head of the group.

“She ready for me?” When John stepped to the side and motioned urgently with his arm, the doctor came forward.

He stopped her, though. With his back to Xhex, he signed, She’s injured somewhere. She’s bleeding.

Doc Jane put her hand on his shoulder and maneuvered him around in a circle so they traded places. “I know. Why don’t you wait outside. I’ll take good care of her. Ehlena? Would you mind coming in—I’m going to need a second set of hands.”

Rehvenge’s shellan went into the exam room and John watched over the doctor’s head as the female started washing her