Chapter 798
The transfer was a military operation. We used a decoy ambulance at the front while Felix drove a nondescript van to the loading dock.
Alistair was pale, sweating from the exertion of being moved from the bed to the wheelchair. He sat slumped, his usual imposing posture gone, replaced by the stark reality of his physical trauma.
“I can lift my own legs,” he whispered to Felix, though his legs didn’t move.
“Let him help you, Alistair,” I scolded softly, buckling him in. “You’re not Superman. You’re a man who was poisoned with a neurotoxin.”
“Superman is boring,” Alistair muttered, his head resting against the window. “I’m Batman. Rich, brooding, and injured.”
Liam snorted from the front seat. “Batman doesn’t whine about catheters.”
“I will shoot you, Liam,” Alistair threatened, though his voice lacked any real heat. “I have a gun in the glove box.”
“Boys,” I warned.
The van pulled out, winding through the city and onto the coastal highway. The rain had stopped, leaving the road slick and shining under the streetlights.
I sat in the back with Alistair, watching his vitals on the portable monitor Lucian had hooked up. His heart rate was steady, but elevated.
“You’re in pain,” I said.
R𝘦аd t𝗁𝘦 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝖾ѕt 𝘁𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗱s o𝘯 𝗀𝖺𝘭ոо𝗏𝘦𝘭𝘀.𝘤o𝗆
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.” I reached into the medical bag and pulled out a syringe of painkiller.
“No.” Alistair caught my hand, his grip weak. “I need to be sharp. If they hit us on the road…”
“If they hit us, Lucian and Felix will handle it. You can’t even hold a gun right now, Alistair. You need to heal.”
I injected the port in his IV line. He glared at me, but his eyes softened as the drug took effect.
“You’re bossy.”
“I learned from the best.”
He leaned his head on my shoulder. “Skye?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For coming for me. For the knife.”
“I told you.” I kissed his forehead. “We bind our lives. That means I pull you out of the fire, just like you pulled me out.”
He closed his eyes, his breathing evening out. For the first time in twenty-four hours, he looked peaceful.
We arrived at Cliffside Haven an hour later. It was a stunning structure of glass and concrete, perched precariously on the edge of a jagged cliff overlooking the churning ocean.
“Welcome to the fortress of solitude,” Lucian announced as the gates rolled open.
We got Alistair into the master bedroom. It was stark, minimalist to the point of being cold. Gray sheets, black furniture, no photos.
“Lucian, do you hate joy?” Liam asked, looking around.
“I like order,” Lucian replied, setting up the IV stand. “Chaos is for work. Home is for silence.”
Alistair groaned as we settled him onto the bed. “This mattress is made of stone.”
“It’s orthopedic foam,” Lucian corrected. “Good for your back.”
“I hate it,” Alistair grumbled. “Skye, come here. Be my pillow.”
I climbed onto the bed beside him, careful of his wound. He wrapped his good arm around my waist, burying his face in my neck.
“Better,” he sighed.
“We’re safe here,” Lucian said, checking the perimeter monitors on the wall. “The sensors are active. Nothing gets within a mile without us knowing.”
“What about food?” Liam asked. “I’m starving.”
“I have a chef,” Lucian said. “He specializes in… nutritional—”
Alistair opened one eye. “That sounds disgusting.”