37. Thirty-Six

My eyes fluttered open. My brain was foggy and unfocused. I blinked slowly, trying to clear the haze from my vision. Soft white light filtered in from somewhere, too diffuse to determine its source. Where was I? The last thing I remembered was Keres carrying me through the dark woods, the smell of blood and dirt all around us. Then…nothing.

As shapes and shadows gradually took on discernible forms, I realized with a start that I was in my room at Shepherd's apartment. The slate gray duvet cover, the minimalist metal bedframe, the art print on the wall… It was all exactly as I had left it. But how had I gotten here? And when?

I tried to lift my arm, wanting to rub my bleary eyes, but found there was an odd tugging sensation in the crook of my elbow. Glancing down, I saw an IV line snaking out from under a strip of medical tape on my skin, the slim plastic tube filled with clear fluid. Saline, probably. I was likely dehydrated thanks to the forced fasting.

I blinked again, my mind slowly catching up to my surroundings. I turned my head to the side, wincing slightly at the stiffness in my neck, and saw Gavin sitting in a chair beside the bed.

He looked up from the book in his hands, his eyes meeting mine with a calm, assessing gaze. “Eli. It's good to see you awake.”

I swallowed thickly, my throat dry and scratchy. “How long was I out?” I rasped, the words feeling strange on my tongue.

Gavin set his book aside and stood, moving closer to the bed. “About eighteen hours,” he replied, reaching for a cup of water on the nightstand.

“Eighteen hours?”

He nodded and held the straw to my lips, and I drank gratefully, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat. “You went through quite a lot.”

I nodded slowly, my gaze drifting back to the IV line in my arm. “What's this for?”

“Saline and electrolytes,” Gavin explained. “To rehydrate you and replenish what was lost. I started the IV when we brought you in.”

I looked at him questioningly. I hadn't known Gavin had medical training.

As if reading my thoughts, the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. “I'm a registered nurse. Part time, when I'm not assisting Shepherd. It comes in handy in situations like these.”

“Oh.” I absorbed this new information, trying to piece together the fragmented shards of my memory. Everything felt hazy, like I was viewing it through a frosted glass. “Why can't I remember much of what happened? After the woods, it's all... blurry.”

Gavin regarded me with a thoughtful expression. “It's not uncommon, after a traumatic experience, for the mind to block out certain memories as a defense mechanism. Give it time. It may come back to you.” He leaned in closer, studying my face intently. “I'm going to do a quick neuro check, alright? Just to make sure everything is functioning as it should.”

I nodded my assent and followed his instructions as he shone a penlight in my eyes, had me track his finger, checked my reflexes and grip.

Satisfied with the results of his examination, Gavin sat back and regarded me thoughtfully. “Everything looks good, Eli. Your vitals are stable and your neurological responses are within normal range. How are you feeling otherwise? Any pain or discomfort?”

I took a moment to assess my physical state. My body felt heavy and sluggish, like I was moving through molasses, and there was a bone-deep ache that seemed to permeate every cell. But it was a far cry from the misery I’d felt in the RV.

“Just tired,” I replied honestly. “And sore. But nothing too bad.”

Gavin nodded. “That's to be expected, given what you've been through. Your body needs time to heal.” He stood and began tidying the medical supplies on the bedside table, his movements efficient and precise.

I watched him work, a sudden thought occurring to me. “Where's Shepherd?” I asked, a tinge of worry creeping into my voice. “Is he... okay?”

Gavin paused in his task, turning to face me with a reassuring expression. “Shepherd is fine,” he said calmly. “But it's not him fronting in the body at the moment. It's Bryce.”

I blinked in surprise. Bryce was fronting? A wave of relief washed over me, followed quickly by a pang of longing. Bryce's steady, nurturing presence was exactly what I needed right now.

“Do you feel up to seeing him?” Gavin asked, studying my face carefully. “I know you're still recovering, so there's no pressure if you'd rather rest more first.”

I shook my head, already pushing myself up to a sitting position. “No, I want to see him,” I said, wincing slightly as my stiff muscles protested the movement. “Please.”

Gavin nodded and moved to disconnect the IV line from my arm, his touch gentle and sure. He placed a small bandage over the insertion site before offering me his hand. I grasped his hand gratefully and let him help me to my feet. The room swayed alarmingly for a moment and I swallowed hard against a wave of dizziness. Gavin kept a steadying arm around my waist as I found my balance, his solid presence a comfort.

“Take it slow,” he murmured. “There's no rush.”

I nodded and took a tentative step forward, then another. My legs felt shaky and weak, like a newborn foal, but I was determined to make it out of the room under my own power.

Step by halting step, I made my way out of the bedroom, Gavin's supportive presence at my side. The short hallway felt like it went on forever, but the sight that greeted me in the kitchen made it all worth it.

Bryce stood at the island, a veritable feast laid out before him. The countertops were covered with takeout containers of every shape and size, their delectable scents mingling together in a tantalizing aroma. Chinese, Thai, Italian, Mexican... It looked like he had ordered from every restaurant in a five-mile radius.

As I stepped into the room, Bryce looked up, his dark eyes softening with warmth and relief. “Eli,” he breathed, moving around the island to meet me halfway. “I’m so glad you’re ok!”

And then his arms were around me, solid and strong, pulling me into a fierce embrace. I melted into his hold, my face pressed into the crook of his neck as I breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of him. Of Shepherd and Keres…of all of them.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, my throat tightening with emotion. I tried to blink them back, to swallow past the lump in my throat, but it was a losing battle. A choked sob escaped me, muffled against Bryce's shoulder.

Bryce's arms tightened around me as the sobs wracked my frail body, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. “Shh, it's all right,” he murmured. “You're safe now. I've got you.”

I clung to him like a lifeline, my fingers fisting in the soft fabric of his shirt. It felt like a dam had burst inside me, all the pent-up fear and pain and exhaustion pouring out in a cathartic flood. I wept until my throat was raw and my eyes burned, but through it all, Bryce held me steady. Gradually, the sobs subsided into hiccuping breaths and shuddering sighs.

Bryce eased back slightly, his hands coming up to frame my face. His thumbs brushed gently over my damp cheeks, wiping away the lingering tears. “There now. Better?”

I managed a wobbly nod, sniffling a bit. “Yeah,” I croaked, my voice hoarse from crying. “S-sorry... I didn't mean to fall apart like that.”

Bryce shook his head, a small smile curving his lips. “You have nothing to apologize for, Eli. Not after what you've been through. Crying is cathartic. It’s good for you.”

I nodded, wiping at my nose with the back of my hand. Bryce kept an arm around my shoulders as he guided me over to one of the stools at the kitchen island. “Come on, you should eat something. I may have gone a little overboard with the ordering, but I wanted to make sure there was something here that you'd like.”

A watery chuckle escaped me as I took in the vast array of takeout containers and foil-wrapped dishes. “A little? This could feed an army.”

Bryce's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “Well, I wasn't sure what you'd be in the mood for. And I figured leftovers are never a bad thing.” He started opening containers, releasing mouthwatering puffs of fragrant steam. “We've got pad Thai, butter chicken, kung pao chicken, enchiladas, lasagna, risotto... Take your pick.”

My stomach rumbled loudly, reminding me that I hadn't eaten a proper meal in days.

Bryce's gaze flicked over my shoulder and he gave a small nod. “Thank you, Gavin. For everything.”

I turned to see Gavin still standing near the hallway, hands clasped professionally in front of him. He inclined his head at Bryce's words. “Of course. I'm glad I could be of assistance.” His cool gray eyes met mine. “Eli, your vitals are stable and you're not in any immediate medical distress. But if you start to feel worse or have any concerning symptoms, don't hesitate to let Bryce know. He can contact me at any time if needed.”

I nodded my understanding, a lump of gratitude lodging in my throat. “Thank you, Gavin,” I managed to rasp out. “For... for taking care of me.”

The barest hint of a smile touched Gavin's usually stern mouth. “You're welcome. I'll give you two some privacy now. Rest and recover well, Eli.” With a final nod to Bryce, he turned and quietly let himself out of the apartment.

I turned back to the spread of food laid out before me, my stomach growling more insistently. Bryce nudged a plate and fork toward me with an encouraging smile. “Go on, dig in. You need to get your strength back.”

I didn't need to be told twice. I filled my plate with a little of everything, the savory scents making my mouth water. The first bite of butter chicken practically melted on my tongue, and I couldn't help the little moan of pleasure that escaped me. After days of deprivation and fasting, the explosion of flavors was almost overwhelming.

Bryce took a seat on the stool next to me, watching me eat with an indulgent smile. He kept one hand resting lightly on my back, his thumb rubbing absent circles between my shoulder blades. The simple touch grounded me, reminding me that I was safe, that I was cared for.

For a while, the only sounds were the clink of my fork against the plate and my appreciative mumbles as I worked my way through the smorgasbord. Bryce didn't press me to talk, seeming content to simply sit with me in easy silence as I sated my hunger.

It was only when I was scraping the last morsels from my plate that Bryce spoke again, his voice low and gentle. “I was worried about you, you know. We all were. When Shepherd realized you were gone and we couldn't get ahold of you...” Bryce's hand slid up to squeeze the nape of my neck gently.

I swallowed hard, setting down my fork with a shaky hand. “I thought they were going to kill me,” I whispered hoarsely, blinking against the sting of fresh tears. “They talked about eating me. And I realized… I wondered…”

I faltered, struggling to give voice to the horrific thought that had haunted me ever since I overheard the cultists' depraved plans. “When I was in the cult, they fed me... things. Meat I didn't recognize.” I pushed my plate away, suddenly feeling sick. “What if... what if they were feeding me human flesh? Without my knowledge? Oh God, Bryce. What if I... what if I ate someone ?”

Bryce gathered me into his arms, pulling me tight against his broad chest as if he could shield me from the atrocity of it all. “Breathe Eli. Just breathe with me.” He began taking slow, deliberate breaths, coaching me to match his rhythm. It took a few shuddering tries, but gradually the tightness in my chest eased.

After a few moments, Bryce eased his hold, leaning back to look at me with deep, compassionate eyes. “Listen to me, Eli. What happened to you was not your fault. You couldn't have known.”

But the horrifying implications were spiraling through my mind now, unstoppable. If they had fed human meat to me, an unwitting prisoner, had they done the same to the children born into the cult? To Dani?

Oh God. The thought made bile rise in the back of my throat.

And then an even more sickening realization crashed over me like a wave of icy dread. If the cult was in the practice of feeding human meat to their members, had they done the same to Shepherd all those years ago? When he was just a child himself, trapped in their clutches?

The breath froze in my lungs as puzzle pieces I hadn't even known were there suddenly started clicking into place. Shepherd's past, the trauma he never spoke of... Was this it? Was this the core wound that fractured his psyche in the first place?

A choked sound escaped my throat as the horrific implications crashed over me, my stomach churning with revulsion.

But before I could give voice to the terrible realization, Bryce gripped my shoulders, his eyes intent on mine. “Eli, stop. Don't go down that path. Not now.”

I blinked at him, uncomprehending, my mind still reeling. “But Shepherd—”

Bryce shook his head firmly. “Shepherd's past is his own. Just as yours is your own. And right now, in this moment, you are what matters. Your healing, your recovery. The rest can wait.”

He smoothed his hands down my arms to take my hands in his. “You've been through a tremendous trauma. An unimaginable ordeal. Speculating about Shepherd's history or what you may have unknowingly consumed will only cause you more distress. And that's the last thing you need right now.”

I swallowed thickly and managed a jerky nod. He was right. My mind was a raw, ravaged wasteland, and prodding at the open wounds would only make them fester.

Bryce's eyes softened. “Come on," he said, sliding off the stool and tugging me gently to my feet. “I have an idea.”

I let Bryce lead me into the living room, my movements still sluggish and uncoordinated. He guided me to the plush leather couch, urging me to sit with a gentle hand on my shoulder. I sank into cushions, my body heavy with exhaustion.

Bryce grabbed the remote from the coffee table and settled himself beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He draped a soft throw blanket over my lap, the plush microfiber comforting against my skin.

“How about we watch something brainless and distracting?” Bryce suggested, flicking on the large flatscreen TV mounted on the wall. “Something to get your mind off... everything else.”

I nodded gratefully, sinking deeper into the couch. “That sounds perfect.”

Bryce navigated through the streaming options, finally settling on some mindless action comedy I'd never heard of. The opening credits began to roll as he set the remote aside, the volume low.

As the bright colors of the opening credits filled the screen, I felt the tension in my chest slowly begin to unravel. The weight of my thoughts didn’t disappear, not entirely. But with Bryce beside me, I could breathe again. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t alone in the storm.

Bryce’s shoulder pressed lightly against mine, grounding me in the present. “It’s going to be okay,” he said softly. His voice was a steady anchor, something real to hold on to in the chaos.

“I know,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if I believed it yet. Still, the flicker of hope was there, small but growing, like the soft warmth of the blanket that Bryce had tucked around me.

As the action comedy played on, Bryce leaned back into the cushions, and for the first time since I woke up, I allowed myself to relax, to lean into the comfort he offered. The world outside this moment could wait—Shepherd’s wounds, the cult, all the unanswered questions.

For now, this was enough.