Chapter 145
Flynn
The assistant's knuckles were white against the steering wheel, his mind clearly elsewhere. I could tell he was thinking about Lucas's situation instead of watching the road.
That was when the black SUV came barreling toward us from the side street.
"Watch out!" I shouted.
The assistant yanked the wheel hard, but it was too late. The impact hit like a freight train. Our car flipped twice before slamming down upside down on the pavement.
When I came to, something warm was trickling down my forehead. Blood. I touched my face and felt the sticky wetness on my fingers. The windshield in front of me was spider-webbed with cracks, and I realized my head had gone straight into it during the crash.
The assistant was already crawling out of his side, breathing hard. "Flynn! Flynn, can you move?"
I tried to speak but only managed a groan. My chest felt like someone had taken a knife to it, and when I looked down, I saw my white shirt was stained red with blood from a gash across my ribs.
"I'm getting you out of here," the assistant said, forcing my door open with a grunt. His hands were shaking as he pulled me from the wreckage. "Jesus, you're bleeding everywhere."
"Hospital," he told the taxi driver he'd flagged down. "Now."
"No." I wiped blood from my eyes with my sleeve. "Bandage me up and take me to the exam venue."
He stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "Are you insane? You need a hospital!"
"I need to take my exam," I said, meeting his eyes with as much determination as I could muster. "Lucas said to get me to the exam. That's what I'm doing."
This was my chance. My one shot at proving I deserve the opportunities Lucas gave me.
The assistant looked at me for a long moment, then sighed. "Christ, you're just like her, aren't you?"
He helped me into the taxi and used his tie to bandage the worst bleeding. Twenty minutes until the first exam started.
When we pulled up to exam site, reporters were everywhere. The moment I stepped out covered in blood, the reaction was immediate.
"What happened to him?"
"Is that Ian? The scholarship kid?"
Principal Smith appeared at my side, her face going white. "Ian, what on earth—"
"I'm fine," I said, though my head was spinning. "I can still take the exam."
Principal Smith remarked, "Absolutely not. You need medical attention. We can arrange for you to take it next year—"
"No." The word came out harsh. "I'm taking this exam today. I promised."
I promised Freya. I promised Lucas. I promised myself.
Principal Smith studied my face, seeing the determination there. Finally, he sighed. "If you start feeling worse, you stop immediately."
I pushed through the crowd toward the entrance, their questions following me like wasps.
The exam room was quiet. I took my seat and tried to ignore the stares. The questions blurred at first, my vision swimming from what was probably a concussion. But I gritted my teeth and pushed through, answering methodically.
By the time the bell rang, I was running on pure willpower. My head pounded worse, fever setting in.
"I need to lie down," I mumbled, letting my head drop onto the desk.
The proctor pressed her hand to my forehead. "You're burning up."
The next thing I knew, Principal Smith was there with a doctor, and someone was carrying me out.
"I just need the fever down," I managed. "I have another exam this afternoon."
Lucas risked everything to give me this chance. I can't let him down.
That was my last coherent thought before everything went black.
When I woke up in a makeshift medical station, Jackson Swift was looking down at me—Freya's friend, the doctor.
"Well," he said, checking my pupils with a flashlight. "You're quite the fighter."
He examined me quickly. "Mild concussion, hairline fracture in your left arm, chest wound. You shouldn't be anywhere near an exam room."
"I'm taking the afternoon exam," I said, struggling to sit up.
"I strongly advise against that," he said.
"I'm Freya's brother," I said quietly. "I have to take this exam."
Something shifted in his expression. He responded, "That explains the stubbornness."
Once we were alone, he crossed his arms. "You want to tell me what really happened?"
I met his gaze steadily. "I reported it to the police already."
Jackson said, "The reporters got photos. This is going to be all over the news. Freya's going to find out whether you want her to or not."
Damn. I'd hoped to keep this from her until after exams.
"If Lucas really pissed off the wrong people," Jackson continued, "a police report won't help much."
I knew he was right. I also knew I couldn't abandon Lucas.
"Please," I whispered. "Help him."
"It happened at Satan's Raceway. The guy's name is Adrian."
Jackson's face went pale. "Adrian? You're sure?"
I nodded, and something cold settled in his expression.
He continued, "Kid, if Adrian's involved, this is bigger than police can handle."
A soft knock interrupted him. My heart sank when I saw who walked in.
Freya.
She moved her wheelchair into the room with calm grace, but I could see the storm behind her eyes. She took in my bandages, the IV, the cuts on my face.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, positioning herself beside my bed.
She looks too calm.
"Freya, I'm sorry," I said. "I couldn't bring him back. I failed—"
"Stop." Her voice was gentle but firm. She took my uninjured hand. "This isn't your fault, Flynn. You should have been living a normal life. I dragged you into this world."
She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice carried a weight I'd never heard before.
"Lucas will be fine. I'm going to bring him home myself. And the people who did this to you..."
Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw something that made me understand why powerful men feared my sister.
"They're going to pay for every drop of blood they spilled today. I promise you that," she said.