CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ZADE
I stand outside the infirmary doors, the sterile scent of antiseptic stinging my nostrils.
I'm contemplating whether to walk in
or walk away, but before my mind can reach a verdict, my hand reacts.
I push the door open.
The first thing I see is the redhead scrambling out of bed.
She's pale, her movements jerky and disoriented.
She's a heartbeat away from hitting the floor when I move.
I'm faster. I lung forward, my arm snaking around her waist to anchor her.
Up close, she feels fragile. Her frame is dangerously thin—was she always this slight? She feels like she's composed of nothing but bone, spirit, and a sharp, jagged pride.
It's the first time I've been this close to her. Truly close.
I can see the dust of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.
My gaze wanders, catching the tiny, scattered spots on her lips.
A thought strikes me, unbidden and traitorous: How can she be so painfully beautiful?
"You're making it difficult," I rumble as she tries to push against my chest.
"Leave her, you motherfucker!" Marcus snaps. I can hear him charging toward us, his footsteps heavy on the linoleum.
"Marcus, I want to be alone with Alice for a moment," I say, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous growl.
I'm seconds away from burying my fist in his face just to quiet the room.
"I... don't... want to be alone with you," Alice whispers.
The little shit. Even with a head injury, her pride is a towering fortress. She'd rather collapse than rely on me.
I'm about to snap back at Marcus when the door swings wide.
Ms. Cox—the doctor whose last name has always been a source of juvenile jokes among the student body—walks in with a sharp, no-nonsense stride.
Not that it matters right now; she's the only one who can fix what I broke.
"What's happening here?" she asks, her voice cutting through the tension like a scalpel.
She signals for me to put Alice back on the bed.
I do as she says, my grip firm as I lower her onto the white sheets.
I make sure she's settled before I step back, but I don't go far.
I watch Ms. Cox move with clinical efficiency. She prods and pokes, her expression darkening as she examines Alice's temple. Only then do I see the true extent of the swell.
The skin is a dark, angry purple.
The guilt rises in my throat like a water fountain, cold and suffocating.
"I would like to have a few words with Zade... alone," Ms. Cox says. She stares pointedly at Marcus and Mio.
Mio is glaring at me so hard I'm surprised I haven't spontaneously combusted.
She looks ready to cook me alive right here in the ward.
"But—" Marcus starts to protest.
"I said alone, Marcus," Ms. Cox interrupts.
Marcus finally yields, but not before leaning into my space.
"I'll deal with you later," he growls, his shoulder checking mine as he passes.
Mio follows, throwing one last look of pure hatred over her shoulder.
"Seriously, Zade? You hit her like you actually wanted to kill her," Ms. Cox says the moment the door clicks shut.
I let out a ragged groan, rubbing the back of my neck. "I didn't mean to do that, Ms. Cox. Truly. I was... distracted."
I look toward the bed. Alice has already drifted back into a deep, exhausted slumber. She looks small.
Too small for the war I've dragged her into.
"She has a concussion and some internal bleeding," the doctor says, following the line of my gaze.
Every word feels like a physical weight being added to my chest.
"I've injected the medication, but she needs to be monitored. Mr. King mentioned she lives alone. That's why I'm worried—she can't stay in the infirmary all night, and she can't be by herself."
She calls the cleaners in to deal with the floor, which still reeks of the vomit Alice emptied onto the floor.
I should leave. I should walk out and let the administration handle it.
But the thought of leaving her here burns a hole in my heart.
She's in this position because of my rage, because of my inability to control my own shadows.
As much as I tell myself I hate her, I can't abandon her.
"I'll take her to my penthouse," I say.
The words are out before I can pull them back.
"Are you out of your mind?" Ms. Cox snaps, her eyes widening.
"Your father wouldn't appreciate that, Zade. We both know what happened the last time you brought someone home."
I flinch at the reminder. The shadows of my family history are long and cold.
Ms. Cox has seen me grow up; she knows where the bodies are buried.
"I know. But I can't leave her like this. I'm taking her to my penthouse."
I sit in the chair beside the bed, my decision final. I'm not asking for permission.
"Do as you wish," she sighs, packing her medical bag. "Just make sure she doesn't get a fever throughout the night. With an injury like that, it's likely to happen."
She leaves, the door closing with a soft thud. I'm left in the silence with the Witch.
I watch the steady rise and fall of her chest, wondering when my life became so tangled with a girl who was supposed to be nothing more than a toy..