Chapter 11
Waking up in the hospital this time is much different from the last time. The first thing I see is a trio of concerned faces. Allie, David, and Emily all peer expectantly at me. But I can only think of one person.
“Bryce,” I croak, my mouth dry. “Is he okay?” Allie rushes to my side, slipping her hand in mine. David steps up beside her and gives my leg a reassuring squeeze.
“He’s alive,” Allie offers. “But he’s not in good shape, Sera. They won’t know more for a while.” I reach my hand out for Emily, knowing she must be as heartbreakingly worried as I am. She rushes to me, her eyes filled with tears, and Allie and David step aside to let her embrace me.
“Oh, Sera, I’m so glad you’re safe,” she murmurs, embracing me carefully and stroking my hair. When she pulls away, I look down, trying to figure out why she was so particular in the way she held me, to see if I’m injured. But while there is a good amount of blood on my dress, I can’t feel any pain. And knowing I’m whole makes my worry for Bryce all the more pressing.
“What’s happening, Em? Why don’t they know?” I asked, tears streaming desperately down my face.
“They said he sustained severe head trauma,” Emily replies, the tears slipping down her face now as well. “He’s still in surgery.”
“How long have I been here? When …” I’m interrupted by a nurse bustling in through the door.
“Okay, everyone, let’s please stop upsetting the patient,” she snaps testily. Everyone takes a huge step away from the bed and gives her a wide berth. “Ms. Evans, I’m Nurse Kettleman. You don’t appear to have sustained any physical trauma, but you were brought in unconscious approximately two hours ago. I’ll need to check your vital signs now, okay?”
I note that the ringing in my ears is gone, and though tired and emotional I think she’s right. I think my trauma is purely mental. So I nod, too tired to resist, and knowing I won’t get answers from a hospital bed anyway. After a few minutes of poking, she declares me fit to be released and hustles out the door to get the doctor.
I sit up and swing my legs over the bed, hopping down. “What else do we know about Bryce’s condition?” I press, looking hard at Emily. She shakes her head sadly.
“Just that it’s too soon to know,” Emily replies. “That’s it. Mom and Aunt Char are in the waiting room. They didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
“Has anyone spoken to the police?” I ask. Allie and David share a look at my sharp tone.
“Of course,” Emily responds. “And they’re already on it. They know what happened from the video feed in the elevator, and they’re trying to identify the bodies.”
“That’s good, but is there a police officer here now?” I demand. While I’m terrified for Bryce, I haven’t forgotten the reason we’re here. And why I’d planned to leave. But with that out the window, and the boldness of tonight’s attack, I know I’m more vulnerable than ever.
“Yes,” Allie replies. “There are two in the waiting room. But the bad guys are dead, aren’t they?”
I sigh heavily, not wanting to answer for fear of making them worry more. “Let’s talk about this later. Right now, I need to get out of this damn hospital room,” I reply.
“Well, then it’s a good thing I’m here,” a voice answers from the door. I look up to see a fit, middle-aged man in scrubs. He extends his hand. “I’m Dr. Miller. And from your chart and your attitude, I’d say you’re fit to be released. If you have any trouble or black out again, please come back, okay?” I don’t take his hand, but he smiles warmly at me nonetheless, and instead signs and offers up a copy of my paperwork.
“Thank you, doctor,” I respond. “But I’m not actually leaving the hospital.” I take the proffered discharge slip and storm out the door. Allie, David, and Emily follow, directing me to the surgical waiting room. I stop on the way to clean myself up as best I can. There’s blood spatter on my face and chest, and a little in my hair, that I’m able to remove. The stains on my clothing will just have to wait.
Continuing into the waiting area, we find Rebecca and Charlotte, who stand as we enter. I go to Bryce and Emily’s mother first, wrapping her tightly in a hug.
“Rebecca,” I breathe as she embraces me in a way that only a mother can. “I’m so sorry.” I bite back the guilt, the tears, and I let her go.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she replies, her eyes shining with tears. “Don’t worry, Sera. Bryce is strong. And stubborn. Always has been. He’ll be okay. I can feel it.”
I don’t respond, but hug Charlotte instead. She gives me an encouraging smile as well. At a different time I’d be saddened by how warm and reassuring Bryce’s family is, as opposed to my own selfish and critical parents. But right now I’m laser-focused on what I can do. What I must do.
I step away from the women and over to where Allie and David are.
“Thank you, guys,” I say. “For coming. I know this is probably scary and confusing. But I’ll be okay. You can go home.”
“Are you sure?” Allie asks skeptically. “We can wait here with you until Bryce is out of surgery. Or as long as you want.” I smile sadly and pull them both into a hug.
“There’s no need, really,” I reply. “I should talk to the police and be here for Bryce’s family. I’ll let you know if I need anything, though, okay?”
“If you’re sure,” Allie responds, still obviously unconvinced. I grab her hands in mine and squeeze them, giving her my best impression of calm confidence.
“I’m sure. Love you guys,” I say. “I’ll let you know when we hear something.”
After a few more reassurances, David finally manages to pull a clearly still uncertain Allie away. Once I’m sure they’re gone, I approach the two police officers on the opposite end of the floor. I recognize one of them from the night I was attacked outside Bryce’s apartment. And as I approach, I see the clear glint of recognition in his eye as well.
“Officer Abbott,” I greet him. “I need your help.”
“Ms. Evans,” he responds. “I’m so sorry to meet again under these circumstances, but I’m at your disposal. We’ve actually been waiting to see if you needed us. What can we do for you?”
“Is there a detective assigned to the case yet?” I ask.
“There is,” he replies slowly.
“Good, then I need to talk to him. Here. As soon as possible,” I insist. He considers me for a moment.
“Sure thing, ma’am, I’ll call him right away,” he finally agrees. “And please know that all of us on the force are going to do everything we can to help,” he glances at his partner, who nods in agreement. “Bryce is practically one of us.”
“I appreciate that,” I respond softly. “I’ll be in the surgical waiting area. I need to make another phone call.”
As I return to Bryce’s family, I call the next person I’m going to need for my plan. Given the hour, I’m not surprised when he doesn’t pick up right away. But eventually he does.
“Sera?” Tristan’s voice is laden with sleep. “Everything okay?” I look up at the ceiling, blinking back tears and concentrating on speaking as calmly as I can.
“No. Bryce and I were attacked tonight. I’m okay, but Bryce is in surgery. And I’m afraid we’re still in danger. I need your help, Tristan.”
“On or off the books?” His question brings a grim smile to my face. Because I know he’s asking if he should ditch his GPS tracker. The loyalty his question demonstrates, at any other time, would warm my heart. But right now all I feel is cold fury.
“I would never ask you to do something off the books, Tristan,” I respond. “But thank you all the same. Just come down to Swedish First Hill and we’ll talk.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he assures me.
Bryce is still in surgery, and I’m giving a full history to Detective Jacobs when Tristan arrives. He waits patiently while I finish filling in the tall, wiry detective on the situation. He’s seen the police reports from my previous issues where I was followed twice and attacked on two separate occasions as well, including the attack of last weekend, but I’d never brought up Alessandro in my reports. Never hinted that there could be something bigger behind it. Until now. And now I’ve told him what I know, damn the consequences. Including that Bryce himself had launched an investigation. I can only hope it’s enough.
But if it’s not, I have a Plan B. Which is where Tristan comes in. As soon as the detective is gone, I find a quiet corner of the waiting room.
Tristan gives me a brief hug, which I gratefully accept. And I catch Tristan up too. Because he’s only been told bits and pieces here and there, and if he’s going to help he needs the whole story.
“Wow,” Tristan murmurs as I finish. “That’s a lot, Sera.”
I close my eyes and give a brief sigh. “I know, but I need to focus right now,” I reply. “Or I’m going to fall apart. I need to find Alessandro and get him to put a stop to this. And the only way I can think of to potentially reach him is through Marco Rossi, who took over his company here in Seattle. They’re practically family, so Marco will almost certainly know where Alessandro is. Unfortunately, the number I have for Marco isn’t working anymore. But honestly, I want to do this in person anyway. So I need you to find him for me and take me there once Bryce is out of surgery.”
Tristan considers that, then nods. “Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll let the officers know that someone should stay here with you until I get back. And I’ll get another guard to join me for first shift. I don’t want to take any chances.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” I reply. And for once, none of my reservations about having the guards around matter — the thought of not having them is far worse. I can only hope this gets resolved quickly. And I’m furious with myself for letting it get to this point before going on the offense.
With Tristan gone, I return to the waiting room with Bryce’s family to, well, wait. And hope.
It’s several hours before a surgeon emerges, looking grim. We all jump up, snapping abruptly out of our half-asleep stupors.
“Mrs. Hoyt?” the surgeon asks. Bryce’s mother steps forward. The surgeon extends a hand, which she takes timidly, clearly terrified. “I’m Dr. Barnes. Your son made it through surgery and is in recovery. We were able to repair the damage. Now all we can do is keep an eye on him to make sure the swelling goes down. The rest is up to him. Chances are good he’ll wake up, but with this kind of head injury, it’s impossible to know what the aftereffects will be.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Rebecca manages. “But what does that mean?”
“A traumatic brain injury often affects speech, cognitive function, mobility, and so on,” he admits. We all exchange horrified glances. “But,” he hedges, “as I said, there’s no way to know if he’ll have any of those issues or to what extent. And with rehabilitation there is a high success rate for recovery.”
“When will he wake up?” Emily asks, gripping my hand tightly.
Dr. Barnes shakes his head. “We don’t know. But we will keep him sedated for a while longer to give him time to heal. I’d recommend you go home and get some rest. We will call you if there are any developments,” he replies.
I let out a frustrated gasp. “We can’t see him?” I ask. Dr. Barnes’ eyes meet mine, and I see the compassion there.
“I’m afraid not,” he responds softly. “Not with this kind of injury, and the type of surgery that was done. Once the antibiotics have had a chance to take hold, you’ll be able see him.”
I try to fight back the rage and sorrow brewing in me before saying anything more. But Charlotte beats me to it.
“And when exactly will that be?” Char snaps uncharacteristically.
Dr. Barnes is clearly used to dealing with distressed loved ones, as he takes it fully in stride. “Twenty-four hours,” he replies.
I sink into the chair behind me, no longer able to stand. Emily sits next to me and wraps an arm around me. I look up through tears at the doctor.
“So there’s a chance he won’t wake up?” I ask thickly.
The doctor looks down sadly at me. “There’s always that chance, but I believe he will,” he replies.
“But if he’s fighting for his life, won’t it help to hear our voices?” I press. I don’t even think of asking what happens if he starts to lose that fight, if we’ll be permitted to say goodbye, or even have time. But thankfully my question seems to have given Dr. Barnes pause.
“I’m a firm believer that that’s true,” he finally replies. “Come back this afternoon. If you’re willing to go through the sterilization process, you can see him and talk to him, one at a time.”
I jump to my feet and hug him before I can stop myself. “Thank you,” I breathe. He gives me a small, reassuring pat before stepping back.
“Just check in at the nurse’s station if you have any questions and to leave your contact information,” he responds, then disappears through the swinging doors behind him.
I turn to the other ladies. “I hate to have to bring this up, but someone should notify Bryce’s company of what’s happened,” I say tiredly.
Rebecca nods. “I already did, dear, don’t you worry about anything,” she replies. I look at her in surprise. Having so recently dealt with the death of her husband, I finally realize how calm she’s been through this so far. And I’m grateful, as that makes it easier for me to keep it together. I reach out and squeeze her hand.
“Thank you,” I reply sincerely. “But unfortunately there are other matters I will need to worry about this morning. But please call me the instant you need me, and I’ll drop everything. Okay?” I look at each of them in turn and they all nod. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tristan and Aiden, one of my other former bodyguards, hovering. I embrace each of the women and say my farewells.
When I make my way over to Tristan and Aiden, I’m surprised when Aiden hugs me warmly.
“Thank you, Aiden,” I say in surprise. He gives me a sad smile.
“My pleasure, ma’am,” he replies. “What news?”
I sigh deeply. “Bryce is out of surgery and in recovery. We won’t be permitted to see him until this afternoon, but the doctor sounded relatively optimistic at his chances,” I reply, leaving out the part about potential issues and recovery. I just can’t right now. “But there are other pressing matters at hand. Tristan, did you get the information I asked for?”
Tristan nods grimly. “Yes, ma’am,” he replies.
I press my lips together, determined. “Good. Let’s get moving, then. I’d like to stop home and change, and then go directly there,” I instruct.
Tristan glances at his watch. “It’s just past six a.m.,” he points out softly.
I give him a sharp look. And never mind the fact that he’s five inches taller than me and is far stronger, he wisely snaps his mouth shut in response.
“He’ll be up. Or I’ll wake him up. In either case, I’m not concerned,” I spit angrily. And I can only hope Tristan knows I’m not angry with him, nor with Marco, really. And not even with Alessandro. I’m just angry with the world right now, for doing this to Bryce. He doesn’t deserve it.
I turn heel and march out of the emergency room, my two guards scrambling to keep up behind me.