54. Zane

54

ZANE

"You love finding new ways to make my job hell, don't you?"

I crack my eyes open to see Hollis is sitting next to my hospital bed, his face forever buried in his phone. He tilts the screen towards me to show me the paragraph he's drafting, but pulls it away before I can see anything.

"As far as press releases go, this is one of the wilder ones I've ever written. Not the wildest. That accomplishment belongs to the unnamed supermodel whose pet tiger ate one million dollars' worth of someone else's diamonds. But this is a close second."

I have no fucking idea what he's talking about. I barely even know where I am.

I look around the hospital room, but Mira isn't here. She was earlier. At least, I think she was.

I have snippets of memory. Little flashes of nurses moving around my bed, Mira holding my hand, Jace's voice.

"How did I get here?" I clear the frog from my throat and immediately regret it. My stomach aches, and I press a hand to a thick bandage over my midsection.

"You should hit the nurse's button and request more pain meds." Hollis points at my wound. "You should also be grateful for that wound. It's the reason you're in a hospital instead of a holding cell right now."

I swear he shakes his head and calls me an idiot under his breath.

Again, I have no clue what he's talking about.

"Where is Mira?" I ask instead.

"Talking to the police. Telling them what happened."

I jolt up and, again, have immediate and painful regrets.

Hollis finally looks up at me long enough to shove me back down into the bed. I must be weak if he can manhandle me with one finger. "I said, Mira is telling them what happened."

"I know," I grit out. "I need to stop her."

I know killing Dante was self-defense, but the facts as they stand don't look good. Mira killed her father, went on the run for years, changed her name, and has now killed her brother. Who is going to be sympathetic towards her? She doesn't have the benefit of the doubt anymore.

"She's telling them exactly what you said happened, dumbass," Hollis hisses under his breath. He shakes his head. "Fucking idiot that you are, you took the fall. It's why you're cuffed to this bed, and she's out there confirming the deathbed confession you gave to the responding paramedic."

It takes a few seconds for his words to bypass the haze of whatever drugs are pumping through my system. I look to my right hand and realize it's handcuffed to the plastic bed railing. I didn't even notice. "Mira told them I killed Dante?"

"She didn't want to," Hollis grumbles. "She fought like hell to take the blame, but I knew what you would want. In the end, so did she. Still, the only reason she agreed is because I swore to her I could get you off."

I rattle my handcuff against the bed. "How is that going so far?"

"Considering the two of you refused to go to the police and hired private investigators instead?" he snaps, eyebrow raised. "Pretty damn good. I just sent a folder of evidence your P.I. and Mira's bodyguard gathered on Dante's movements the last few months. It's a clear pattern of escalation. We don't have the security cameras at the house as evidence since Dante was screwing with them, but you, Mira, and Daniel are all spewing the same story. Even Aiden is an eyewitness."

I wince. I don't want Aiden involved in this at all. I don't even want to think about what he may have seen.

I shove it all aside and hold out my hand—IV and all—to Hollis. "Thank you, Hol."

He takes my hand, shaking lightly. "I accept ‘thanks' in the form of expensive whiskey and large Christmas bonuses, just FYI."

Hollis leaves to perfect my press release. A doctor and a few nurses check on me, but the only person I want to see is Mira. I ask anyone who walks into my room where she is, but the answer is always the same.

She's still being interviewed.

After an hour, I'm seconds away from climbing out of this bed and marching down the hall with my IV pole and my ass exposed, when the door opens.

"Mira."

She looks like she's been to hell and back. Her hair is tangled, her face is swollen, and her neck…

" Fuck . Your neck." I reach for her, but when she stops at the side of my bed, she keeps her hands behind her back. I don't want to think about what injury she must be trying to hide from me if the ones I can see are this bad.

"I'm okay," she croaks. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel like I want to get out of here and take you home."

"I want that, too." She swallows and it looks painful. I know Dante is already dead, but the sight of Mira hurting because of him makes me want to bring him back to life and kill him all over again.

"Have you talked to Aiden?"

"Not yet. I didn't want him to hear me like—" She gestures to her throat, and it's self-explanatory. "Daniel and Taylor are with him. He knows someone tried to hurt us, but he also knows we're okay. Daniel said he keeps asking for you."

"Well, as soon as I'm uncuffed, I'm ready to get the fuck out of here."

"You need to stay and recover, Zane. Dante did a lot of damage. I thought you might not—" Her voice catches. She stops herself, blowing out a long breath. "I want you to rest and recover as long as you need to."

I hold out my hand for her again. I'm itching to touch her. But she doesn't reach for me. Doesn't move.

"Mira," I plead.

She looks towards the window, ignoring me. "I told the police what happened."

"Yeah, Hollis told me he had to talk you into it. He said he'll be able to get me off easily." I curl my fingers, urging her closer. "Come here. Touch me."

Again, she ignores me. "I told the police everything that Dante had been doing for the last few months. The stalking, the threats. I told them everything they needed to know to prove you're innocent. The officer I talked to said they'd come and uncuff you in a few minutes… once I'm gone."

"Gone? You're not going anywhere. They should come uncuff me now. Mostly so I can drag you into this bed with me," I growl. "Come here, Mira."

Her eyes land on me, and they're glassy. A tear rolls down her cheek. "I hope you're not mad, but I told my one truth for today to someone else."

I can't explain why, but my heart is slamming against my ribs. "Mira…"

"I told them what happened to my dad—what I did. I told them who I really am and how I killed him."

"Okay. Okay." I can practically hear the gears turning in my head, trying to process everything. "Hollis had a plan for this. He's sending evidence about Dante to the police, so he can send the stuff about your abuse by your father, too. He'll take care of everything."

She gives me a sad smile. "If you could tell him to hurry it up, that would be great."

There's something she isn't telling me. There's a piece of this puzzle I don't have, and I don't like it.

An officer steps into the doorway and clears his throat.

When Mira looks over her shoulder at him, she turns just enough that I see her hands behind her back for the first time.

There are shiny metal cuffs around her wrists.

The final puzzle piece snaps into place, and I lurch towards the door. "No fucking way!" I splutter as agony rips through my torso like a lightning bolt.

"It's okay, Zane. I'm fine."

"You're in cuffs!" I spit. "You're not ‘okay.' You're being arrested for saving your own life. It was self-defense!" The officer in the doorway doesn't budge. I strain against the handcuff strapping me to the bed, and it doesn't budge, either. "This is bullshit, Mira!"

"This is what I should have done seven years ago." She takes one step away from me. And another. And another. "Call Hollis for me, will you?"

"Mira!" My own cuff rattles against the bed, leaving deep dents in the hard plastic, but I'm trapped. Stuck here while my wife is hauled away from me.

I confessed to killing Dante to avoid this. I was supposed to save her from this.

The officer in the door steps aside to let her into the hall and my heart rate monitor is beeping off-the-charts fast. A couple nurses come in, worried, but I don't give a shit about them or my heart or anything but the woman walking away from me.

I arch off the bed, ignoring the pain that sears through my midsection with every breath, every motion, every cry. But it doesn't stop me from shouting her name again and again, as little good as it does me.

"Mira! Mira! Mira! "