Page 75 of Wicked Truths
I swallow hard, the weight of those words settling like lead in my stomach.
Someone tried to kill me.
A startled gasp escapes my throat.
“Or scared of what she might say—” Mom shoots back, her voice coated in anger.
“Stop it, you two. You’re frightening Amara.” Milly keeps her voice calm despite her fists balling at her sides.
“I’m staying,” Dom says as he walks to the door, opens it, and hisses, “Everyone else, get out!”
But if Dom is my father, what does that make all those conversations about? What was that other man called?Caleb?
Argh, my brain aches from trying to piece this puzzle together.
The doctor glances between them and then nods at Dom. “You can stay,” he decides. I get the feeling it wasn’t really up for discussion.
As the door closes behind my mother, the doctor shifts his focus back to me. “Do you remember anything about the accident?”
I shake my head slowly and wince as pain shoots through my temples.
“Do you remember your name?” he asks next.
“Amara,” I reply hesitantly, but it feels like I’m saying someone else’s name—not quite mine.
“Did you know that before you heard it?” He studies me closely.
I grimace again and shake my head; a small flicker of panic runs through me as uncertainty coils tightly around my chest.
“Do you recognize anyone in this room?” His tone is clinical yet compassionate. “Or anyone who just left?”
Dom’s gaze locks onto mine; there’s something familiar there, but it doesn’t click into place for me. I shake my head once more.
Dom’s shoulders seem to relax at that.
I’ve just overheard that someone tried to kill me, and as I glance at Dom, I wonder if that relaxing of his shoulders was because I can’t remember a damn thing.
Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t remember a damn thing.
“Why does my head hurt?” My voice sounds hoarse as I try to make sense of my confusion.
“You were in an accident, and you’ve been unconscious for five days because of it.”
I lift my hand to touch my aching cheek and flinch.
My heart pounds in my chest as Dom steps closer, the worry etched on his face shifting into something more serious. “I found you on the ground,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “I thought you were dead.”
His words hit me like a freight train. I swallow hard, grappling with the implications. Dead?
“Was it an accident?” I ask, my throat as dry as sandpaper. “Did someone try to kill me? Was it deliberate?”
Dom’s expression darkens, the shadows in his eyes deepening. “That’s something I’m trying to find out.”
Just the mere thought digs deep into my gut. My mind races with questions.
“Is my life in danger?” I manage to ask. The words tasting like poison on my tongue.
“Yes,” he replies without hesitation, his gaze unwavering as he meets mine. “But I will find out who.”
