“To be honest, I didn’t really expect to find you still here, not after I saw that tomb. I figured your father would have had you taken away from here and put under protection until he could get to you,” the shifter drawled, as he pointedly glanced around the cellar that his father had turned into a prison, “but now that I’ve seen what he has waiting for the bitch…”
The shifter allowed his voice to trail off as he slowly turned his gaze back to Trace. “You’re not planning on going anywhere until this is over, are you?”
“No,” Trace said evenly while he watched the shifter as he glanced from Trace to the other cells, taking in the chains coated in silver that disappeared into holes in the floor and the weapons lining the walls before pushing away from the cell with a shrug.
“That’s all I needed to know,” the shifter said, pulling out a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them to the Sentinel, who was watching his every move, and headed upstairs.
“Get a physician,” Trace said, with a glare aimed at the bastard that was never going near his wife again.
“I’m taking her out of here,” Nathan said evenly as he unlocked the cell door.
“No, you’re not,” Trace said, flashing his fangs in warning with a growl when the Sentinel went to take her from him.
“Yes,” Nathan said, pulling out his weapon and aimed it at Trace’s head, “I am.”
Keeping his gaze locked on the Sentinel, Trace moved forward, knowing if the Sentinel did anything to harm his wife that he would-
“I don’t feel so good, Trace,” came the weakly mumbled words that had the Sentinel’s gaze shifting to his sister with a pained expression as he reluctantly put his weapon away and stepped out of the way to let Trace pass.
“Get a physician,” Trace repeated, wishing that he’d paid attention all those times that his father had pointed out plants that could be used to heal someone, but at the time, he’d been convinced that he would never need to know any of it.
“What happened to her?” Nathan asked, following him upstairs.
“Head injury,” Trace said, wishing that he’d realized how badly injured she really was.
He should have known better.
He’d been raised in taverns and whore houses where head injuries were common and were known to turn bad quickly. He’d seen plenty of men who’d managed to shake off a blow to the head with a chuckle and a pint of ale only to be hauled off in a cart to be buried behind the church the next morning while others managed to go on for a few weeks before they met the same fate. He should have made sure that she was okay.
She was his wife and his responsibility. It was his job to see to her needs and to keep her safe and he’d failed her, something that would never happen again.
*-*-*-*
“Sam?” a painfully familiar voice said softly, causing the pain searing into her skull to double. A weak groan left her as she felt her eyes gently pushed open and a bright light was flashed over her eye, sending a fresh shot of pain through her head.
“Do you know where you are, Sam?” Dr. Adams, a man that she’d been hoping that she would never have to see again mostly because of the whole problem with passing out when faced with confrontation thing since she had a pretty good idea that he was probably going to end up firing her since she hadn’t been to work in the last few weeks.
“Hell,” she grumbled, wondering when her head was going to stop spinning as she closed her eyes only to groan when she felt someone pick up her arm and-
“Sorry,” she heard Janice, a nurse that she’d been training for the past month, mumble nervously, as she pulled the needle back with a trembling hand, readjusted it, and slid the needle back in with another, “Sorry,” before she heard Dr. Adams clear his throat and say, “I’ve got this, Janice. Just go see how Mrs. Nicolson is doing.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Janice said, sounding relieved and making Samantha frown as she felt Dr. Adams pick up her arm and carefully finished setting up the IV.
“What happened?” Dr. Adams asked as she felt the pain medication that he was most likely injecting into her IV start to make its way through her body.
“Where’s Nathan?” Samantha asked instead, struggling to focus on what was going on. She couldn’t remember what happened, but she knew that he’d pissed her off and as soon as she remembered what was going on, she was going to kill him.
“I haven’t seen him,” he said, making her frown as she struggled to open her eyes only to close them when the bright overhead lights reminded her that was a bad idea as more pain shot through her head, making it harder to focus.
“Sorry,” Dr. Adams mumbled absently, seconds before she heard the light switch click off.
“Where is he?” Samantha managed to ask as she curled up onto her side and placed her hand over her ear, hoping to block out the sounds of machines beeping, people talking, and a baby crying somewhere in the emergency room.
“Last I heard, he was deployed in Europe,” Dr. Adams said, making her frown as she felt him double-checking her IV line. “Do you remember how you got here, Sam?”
“No,” she said, starting to feel herself doze off again.
“We found you outside, slouched over in a wheelchair,” Dr. Adams said as she felt the covers pulled up to her chin. “We’ve been worried about you.”