➵ Chapter 54-10

When I roused again, my room was no longer dark. The lights had been switched on, not as bright as I remembered the ones in the hall being. The tubes and needles were back in my arm, and the wires were stuck back to my chest, monitoring vitals. Only this time, my wrists had been strapped down. "Nobody knows how you made it so far without being seen," a voice said from my left. "Or passing out earlier. You had four surgeries in the last five days to keep you alive. Third-degree burns on your waist, second degree on your left arm. I don't understand how you even managed to get out of bed." I turned my head. "Detective," I said, in what was meant to be a confident voice, but came out sounding more like a whimper. "Painkillers," Detective Parker said to somebody else in the room. "Now." A man in scrubs moved into sight, sparing me a smile before scribbling something onto the clipboard that hung from the end of my bed. Then the nurse turned up what I assumed was morphine. "Is that better, Miss Mason?" Detective Parker asked. "What would your wife say if she knew you tied up another girl in bed?" Parker almost smiled. "I'll take that as a 'yes'. I've got a question or two for you." "Fire away." "The NYPD was streamed a video. I'm sure you know something about it considering you were the star. Darren Polk, the ex-captain of an NYPD precinct, confessed to having your parents killed and putting a hit out on you. He died in the building's explosion. Have you got any idea how that happened?" "Not at all. May I ask if you looked into what I told you about?" "I did. Took a look at the prisoners who broke out, too." His chapped lips twisted, like he was sucking on a lemon. "You started to make a lot of sense." "I've been accused of being a lot of things, but sensible is a new one. Speaking of accusations, I suppose you're here to arrest me." "I was supposed to. You disappeared. I couldn't get in contact with you during your disappearance. That made you a fugitive. But the results of that print I got from you a couple day ago wasn't a match to Astrea's. And everything else is gone." "I-I don't understand." "Aren't you supposed to be some type of genius?" "Morphine." "We have nothing on you. The evidence is lost. I suggest you stay out of trouble. Someone like you could do a lot of good in the world. But you'd have to be out of prison for that." I stopped him before he left. "Wait." "What?" "Is Jace okay?" Detective Parker paused. "Somebody had pulled you two out the building's wreckage. It's a miracle you're both even alive. He took the worst of it. Seeing the way his back and leg were burned, it seems that he shielded you. Still, Mr. Acardi was discharged yesterday. He tried to see you, but I didn't want you speaking to anybody before me." "He's okay?" "He's lucky." "Will you take these things off me?" "Not my doing. Doctor's orders. You tore your stitches. Reopened your wound. He doesn't want you wandering off again." He pulled open the door to leave. "I wish you the best, Miss Mason." The rest of the day was a blur - a nurse would come in every few hours to check on me, and one of them thought that turning on the TV would keep me occupied. But the first thing I saw was my face on the news. The video of me being shot and beat shown over and over. The monitor showing my heart rate spike, and he switched it off as soon as he noticed. After that, I wasn't as cooperative with the nurses, growing bored and angry. Refused food. Refused water. Struggled with the restraints until they knocked me out. "Lia," a voice whispered, a warm hand pressing against my cheek. I opened my eyes. "Jacian?" In the darkness of the room, I couldn't quite see him. But I recognized his voice. Recognized the mischievous smile that was flashed in my direction. The long, nimble fingers pulling off the straps that kept me down. "What are you doing? Visiting hours must be over. It's so dark." "Don't worry. I've got pain meds." Jace pulled the needle out my arm with ease, somehow making it painless, before he helped me out the bed, easing me into a wheelchair immediately. "Can you wheel yourself?" I nodded. "Are the others okay?" "Yes." He pulled a jacket around my shoulders before grabbing something that leaned against the bed. "Let's go. We have three minutes before this shift switch is over." "You're stealing me?" "I am." We moved swiftly through the halls, him hurrying behind me, and made it to the elevator without being seen. In the light, I could finally see him - split lip, black eye, jaw bruised purple. A slim cane was in his freshly scarred hand. "How long will you need that?" I asked. He stooped down to kiss the top of my head rather than answering. The deflection made my stomach knot. The elevator doors slid apart, and we were rushing out again. As soon as I was out the doors, wind blew through my hair, lifting it up, blowing it wildly around my face. The wind. The chilliness. It was bliss. To feel it on my skin, for it to make me shiver when I thought I'd never feel a thing again - whether it be good or bad or somewhere in between. I laughed, exhilarated, shedding the jacket to embrace the cold as we moved forward. No part of me was guilty - nothing in me could call up the slightest commiseration for Darren Polk. Nor did I want to. I was finally free. "What happened with Detective Parker? He wouldn't let me see you." "He let me go. Lied. Said they lost the evidence." "Why do you think he did that?" "Pity. I never thought I'd be grateful for it. "Do you want to go home?" Home. The word sounded strange to my ears. "I'm not sure where that is." "Where do you want it to be?" I shook my head, at a complete loss, watching the people passing us by. All of them living their lives the same way they had yesterday. The same way they'd live tomorrow. Maybe they were going home or going out for a drink. Perhaps they'd tuck in their kids, kiss them goodnight. Their world was still spinning. "We can go back to my apartment and order pizza. After all, we do have a date." A date. After everything that had happened, something that was as equal parts trivial as it was wonderful, something like a date, still existed. "I expect five-star treatment," I said. "And I require loads of kisses." He smiled at me, cheeks reddening in the biting cold. "I think I can do that. Anything else?" I considered it. "Extra cheese on the pizza." "How do you plan on repaying me?" "My presence should be payment enough." "More than enough." Something that felt suspiciously like hope welled up inside of me, and for the first time in years, I did nothing to suppress it. I didn't push it down or block it out. I let it stay - let it give me faith that maybe, just maybe, I could be happy. Our world was still spinning.