It was heaven or hell. The lights were too blinding to discern, causing Larkin to clamp her eyes closed.

“Hey,” a soothing familiar male voice cooed.

Something brushed her forehead. Hands? Lips?

“I’m here, Larkin.”

Who? It wasn’t Beckett. She’d recognize his voice in the pits of hell. The fire. Memories swarmed her in the darkness. Her body shook.

“You’re safe now. I’m here with you.”

A hand stopped hers from trembling. It snuggled her palm to his palm.

Douglas? No, it wasn’t Douglas. He was in the city. The girls? They didn’t possess quite the timbre.

“Sleep now. The doctor said you suffered smoke inhalation. You’ll be fine. He promised. He said you’d be tired and weak for a while, but you’re safe.” Lips trailed over her brow and then jumped to her hand.

Had she the strength to open her eye, she’d glare the zealot into submission. But she couldn’t defend herself. How dare he take advantage of her?

“It’s my job to take care of you. I know you’ll let me do it now.”

Lucas.

Where were they? What time was it? Why was he here and not her friends? Not Douglas?

Exhaustion pulled her under.

When she came to, the tempo of things had changed. The background noise had died down, and the light didn’t press on her sockets even with her lids closed. Her head pounded, but the drum had gotten smaller. Incrementally so.

Larkin dared to open her lids, but it felt as though they were made of sandpaper. Her eyes watered, so she tried not to blink. Blinking hurt.

A blinking green light and white, shining numbers gave her something to focus on. They didn’t make sense for several heartbeats. Heartbeats that elevated and read out of the monitor. She looked past the monitor to an IV drip.

She was in a hospital. Lucas had told her as much.

Where was he?

She shifted her face, but the pounding intensified, shaking the clock on the wall. The hands danced with each pump of her heart.

Two fifty a.m.

She’d closed her eyes for the night not much more than two hours ago. How had all that transpired in such a short amount of time?

Larkin turned her head farther.

Lucas sat in a chair beside the bed. Her bed. Her hospital bed. He sat and watched her without a word. Without an expression. Vacant eyes stared at her. For an instant, she thought he was dead, but then he blinked. Slowly, a hint of warmth returned to his features.

“How’d you get here so fast?” Larkin sank deeper into the bed. It’d taken so much effort to speak, and her voice sounded like a fifty-year-old career drunk.

He leaned forward and grabbed her hand and brought it to his cheek. His stubble poked the back of it. She felt his jaw hinge before he spoke. “I was on my way up when I got the call. I wouldn’t let Douglas leave you alone.” His head shook. The hair on his chin scraped her sore fingers. “I should have left sooner. If I had, you wouldn’t be here.”

Here in the hospital or here on earth?

At this point, she didn’t trust Lucas. Her in case of emergency people were Libby and Douglas, and neither of them was here. Her alarm system should have dialed them right away when the first beep sounded.

Wait. She hadn’t heard an alarm, and she had one of the most intricate ones on the market in each of her homes.

Weakness weighed her down. Fear smothered her.

She fought against them with all she possessed. “My phone?” If she had it, who would she call?

Beckett.

But she didn’t have his number.

“You need to sleep. The world doesn’t matter right now. Getting you better does.”

Larkin couldn’t fight. Weakness and vulnerability shrouded her. She despised it.