Beep. Beeeep. Beeeep.
The sound sped up, and with it I felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head.
Everything that had happened came rushing back to me and my eyes flew open. It hurt like hell to open my eyes, like they’d been glued shut or something. There was even some kind of substance stuck to my lashes, so every time I blinked it blurred my vision.
“Ari?” I tried to ask, but my voice came out sounding more like a croak. “Ari?” I forced the word out again and my heart sped up even more.
Is Ari okay? Where is she? Is she dead?
“Ari?” My voice cracked. “Ari? Ari? Ari?”
The beeping speed up to what I assumed was dangerous levels because suddenly a group of nurses and doctors came rushing into my room.
I grasped the bed sheets in my hands like I was going to push them off and they rushed forward, two of them restraining me.
I wanted to yell and shove them off of me, but I didn’t have the strength for that. Instead, my body collapsed against the pillows behind my back and I pleaded with them, “Ari? Ari? Ari?” It was the only word I could get out, and my voice was so raspy and distorted that it sounded more like air leaving my lungs than a name, so I kept repeating it, hoping they’d figure it out. “Ari? Ari?”
Despite the amount of pain my body was in, it paled in comparison to her safety. If I am here, does that mean she is too? Or is she dead? Or had Blaise changed his mind and taken her with him?
I picked at the IV in my arm trying to get it out. None of those bastards were doing anything but yelling at me, and I had to find her.
“Sir, sir, you have to stop that.” One nurse grabbed my right arm and another held down my left. I kicked my legs, trying to get away despite my body quickly growing exhausted.
I heard someone shout, “Sedate him!”
“No,” I pleaded with them. “Ari.” My voice cracked again and my words became gibberish.
I felt something cold hit my veins, and in seconds, my eyes grew heavy.
“Ari, Ari, Ari—”
Ari.
***
When I opened my eyes again, I wasn’t alone.
Raymond sat beside my bed.
Raymond, as in the guy that was Blaise’s right-hand man.
My mom and dad sat on the couch on the other side of me.
My heart rate picked up again like it had the last time. “Get out,” I mouthed to them. “He did this.”
My mom stood and came over to me, smoothing her fingers over my cheek the way she had when I was little and sick in bed. Tears pooled in her eyes.
“We thought we’d lost you too.” She broke out into sobs and my dad stood, gathering her into his arms. He held her to his chest and peered down at me with this look of sadness and wonder, like he was surprised to see me alive.
“You have to get out,” I mouthed again.
My dad shook his head. “It’s not what you think. Let him explain.” He nodded at Raymond.
What the fuck is going on? What don’t I know?
Raymond stood beside my bed. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and plain t-shirt now with a gun in a holster beside his hip. He pulled out a thin black wallet-type-thing from his pocket and flipped it open.
“My name is Brian McCann. I’m with the F.B.I.”