Page 51 of Under His Command
“I need to go see my mom,” I say, wiping away my tears. “I don’t know if she’s going to make it.”
Even saying those words out loud breaks something in me I’m not sure how to fix.
First, my brother. Now my mom too. This can’t happen. She can’t die on me. I won’t accept that.
“Give me half an hour to close down the hospital. Then we can go see her. All right?”
Close down the hospital? Sure, another thing to add to the list of Rowan’s obnoxious plans. I don’t even question this one. As long as I get to that damned hospital, he can do whatever he wants.
“Fine,” I rasp, resuming brushing my hair.
I see his figure in the mirror in front of me—in stark contrast to mine, a sobbing and disheveled mess. He looks calm, collected, and cold as ice. The face of Commander Rowan King, not the face of my lover. As if this is some sort of attack against his own, and he needs to figure out his plans to strike back.
He opens his mouth to say something, but the words never come out. Instead, he takes his phone out of his pocket and starts making calls.
We enter the hospital through the rear atrium, away from the main avenue. No reporters are here, and I wonder if somehow Rowan made it so that no one knows where we are. My entire body tingles from all the stress that courses freely through my aching veins.
Rowan holds my hand as he makes his way through the empty corridors like he knows exactly where we’re supposed to go. I let him do it, since I don’t have much energy in me to deal with the situation. I just want to see my mom.
We reach the main desk, and the receptionist—a kind-looking, middle-aged woman—immediately notices us. Lines cover her earth-brown skin, as if she spends too many hours on the job.
“Clarise Finnegan,” Rowan says, placing a hand on her desk, leaning forward. “What state is she in? When can we see her?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but only family members can—”
“I’m Dove Finnegan, her daughter,” I chime in. “Please, can you tell us where she is?”
She looks at me, her lips thinning as she nods.
“She’s still in surgery. From what we know, a speeding car hit her as she was crossing the street. She hit her head, causing internal bleeding. One of her lungs got punctured too. She’s in a precarious state right now, but the doctors are doing everything they can to help her push through. As soon as she’s out and you can see her, I’ll let you know.”
“It’s bad, but… she’ll make it, right? She’s going to be all right,” I say, voice trembling as Rowan slides his arm around my shoulders, bringing me closer to him.
“I’m really sorry,” the woman says.
“Who’s the doctor in charge of this?” Rowan asks.
“Franco Pierce. I can assure you, sir, he is very good at what he does.”
“I know. He’s the best in Washington. Keep us posted, please. I want an update every hour with her condition.”
“Well, I mean, since you closed the entire hospital down… sure, I can do that.” The woman rolls her eyes, then looks down at the scattered papers on her side of the desk.
“Do we have a problem, Miss…” Rowan looks at her name tag, eyes narrowing on her. “Abena?”
“None at all,” she says, forcing a smile. “It’s just kind of unfair to the other visitors, don’t you think? All of you politicians think you can just wave a magic wand and get it your way while the rest of us sit back and let you do as you please, whenever you want.”
I can practically feel Rowan’s rage simmering underneath his skin. He smiles back at her, but doesn’t say anything. He could, though, couldn’t he? He could use his power to get her fired, or God knows what else he’s thinking of right now.
But I relax a little when I feel his chest release a breath instead.
“I do apologize for the inconvenience. But for reasons I am not at liberty to reveal, this was the only way we could be here with Clarise right now. I hope we can get out of your way as soon as possible and let you get back to saving lives.”
Abena nods, looking somewhat satisfied with his answer. But not enough not to give him a side-eye look when we leave her desk and head for the waiting room. I smile apologetically her way before we both disappear by taking the corner.
“Sit down, angel. This could be a while.”
I plop down onto a chair, nervous and defeated, propping my elbow on the armrest as I rub my forehead with my hand.
