Page 94 of Keeping Knight

I release a shaky breath. I’m glad Beau’s okay. Or at least, as okay as someone who has a concussion could be. Once Micah’s friends arrived at the condo, a couple of them went searching for Beau and found him unconscious and tied up in the storage closet. According to Beau, Henry had approached him shortly after the fire alarm went off, tased him, hit him with the butt of a fire axe, and the next thing Beau knew, he woke up in the closet.

I can’t blame Beau for believing Henry was a real firefighter. I did. Especially given the situation, with the alarms going off, and all the smoke…

“He feels terrible,” Rogue told me when we first arrived at the hospital. “Beau. He wanted me to tell you how sorry he is.” Pausing, Rogue added somberly, “It was an understandable mistake. And he’s not the only one Henry tricked.”

“What about Knight?” Thiago asks. “Any news yet?”

Rogue shakes his head. “Not that I’ve heard. But I’m sure the doctor will come here as soon as there’s anything to report.” He forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You know Knight. He’ll be fine.”

But he doesn’t seem sure of it. He seems worried. Which makes me feel even worse.

Too antsy to sit still, I get out of my chair and walk over to the window. The sun has disappeared behind the clouds while we’ve been here, and tiny droplets of rain splatter the glass. Everything is gray outside. Four floors down, people scurry across the yellow grass with their heads ducked down.

It all looks so bleak; I come close to crying again.

I want Micah. I want to bring him home and take care of him and promise I’ll never let him get hurt again.

I press my hand to my aching chest. I bite my lip until I taste coppery blood.

Please be okay, I plead silently. Please.

Dad, I add, if you’re listening, can you please help Micah? I love him. You would love him too, if you met him. If there’s anything you can do, can you please bring him back to me? I love him too much to lose him.

For all my efforts, tears sting my eyes. A sob swells large in my chest.

“Hey.” A hand lands on my shoulder, heavy but gentle. When I turn, I find Wraith looking down at me with concern. “How are you holding up?”

Swallowing hard, I reply, “I’m okay.”

He studies me. “You don’t seem okay.”

I grip the windowsill hard. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. All that matters is Micah.”

His mouth compresses into a frown. “How you feel matters.”

“Not right now, it doesn’t.”

Wraith’s dark gaze sweeps over my face. Then he says, “Let’s go out in the hallway for a minute.”

There seems no good reason to argue—I’ll see the doctor either way—so I let Wraith maneuver me through the waiting room and into the hallway. Once we get out there, he puts both hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him.

“He’s going to be alright,” he says. “Where he got shot, it’s a good spot. Comparatively.”

“You don’t know that,” I retort. “You didn’t see the—” My voice breaks. “You can’t say he’s going to be alright. You don’t know.”

Wraith gives me a long look. Then he nods. “No, I don’t know for sure. Not a hundred percent. But I’ve seen a lot of injuries. I know which ones are really bad.”

“What if there’s a complication?” I ask. “What if… I don’t know. But things happen. I thought my dad was fine. Healthy. And then he just died. Right in front of me.”

“Ruby.”

“I know it’s my fault,” I sob. “But Micah shouldn’t have to suffer because of me. Micah is brave and kind and amazing and he deserves a long, healthy life. And now⁠—”

“He will.” Wraith holds up his hand when I start to respond. “This isn’t your fault, Ruby. None of it is.”

“But—”

“But nothing. It’s that sick fuck’s fault. He did it. He’s responsible. Not you.”