CHAPTER 6

As I slowly pull myself off the edge of the bed, my ribs scream at me. I only get as far as my toes making the slightest contact with the ground. I'm still not strong enough to do that.

When I feel like I'm being observed, I jerk my head towards my doorway as I'm taking a breath.

When Olivia came to check on me after breakfast, she left my door open, which I desperately wanted to beg her not to do. She would have asked why if I had told her, and there are some things I will never intend to address.

Looking back at me is a man with black hair, blue-green eyes, and a scruffy, carefree sexiness. shifter not. He doesn't have the wild expression in his eyes that I've observed in shifters. A female wouldn't say no to this gentleman if she was interested in getting into bed with a man who resembles the attractive European doctor you would see on a TV show.

That chick is not me.

It doesn't stop me, however, from imagining for the first time since I can remember what it must be like for a girl to be dragged from the river and left to bleed to death for a week in a hospital bed.

Given his navy scrubs, he must be a doctor or surgeon. His look has a little too much authority for him to be a nurse.

He says, "Hello," with a drawl and a wholly American accent to match the carefree smile on his face. Probably used to surf in college. or a drug user.

I keep quiet since I don't know what to say in case he interprets it as a request to approach.

His mouth twists into a bigger grin. Saying "Shy, huh?"

I scowl. "I want you to go," I said. I realize it's impolite. But whether he's a doctor or a surgeon—or whomever he is—he needs to leave if I tell him to because I'm a patient here. Or I could yell.

But he stays put. He looks me over from head to toe. "Simon said you were in pretty bad shape, but you seem to be back on your feet already?" He keeps looking at my throat. "Impressive."

I object to him focusing on the bites on my neck. If you could even find coyotes in large towns, they would have appeared to a human as though an aggressive dog or coyote had attacked me. A shifter would be aware of the numerous failed attempts to change me they were seeing. This guy looks at my throat as like he understands what they are trying to say.

He is, nonetheless, a human.

Absolutely, I say.

Harley here. It's like the motor, yes.

"Please leave, please.Now." The restroom, which is closer to him than I am, and the window, which has a drop so great that I'm genuinely considering it because of my worry about who this man is and what he wants from me, are my only two escape routes. I slant my body an inch towards the window in preparation to bolt.

He moves closer to me as the amusement in his eyes begins to disappear. "You're not required to—"

He said, "Hey, Harley." Behind him, Olivia appears with a smile on her face. The question "Were you looking for me?"

He gives her a passing look. "Hey, gorgeous. Actually, Simon, but I figured I'd check in on his enigmatic Jane Doe since I was on this level. He gives me a cheeky grin.

I'm not grinning back.

"He appears afterwards. Is it okay if I let him know you were looking for him? Olivia asks, shifting her focus back and forth between Harley and me as if she can sense the tension between us.

No need. Later, I'll catch him. Before turning to depart, the man—Harley—takes a step back and turns to face me. "Jane, get well soon."

I remain silent once more and simply wait for him to depart.

Olivia comes over to me after he leaves. "Are you alright? You weren't scared by him, did he? Although he flirts a little, Harley is harmless.

She is correct; something about her glance makes me believe she is aware of my troubled past with men. The question "Is he a doctor?"

Cardiothoracic surgeon.

I look at her with confused blinks.

I'm sorry. When you spend all day with doctors... lung and heart surgeons. Chest, too, but the heart is his area of expertise.

"A heart surgeon by the name of Harley?"

So, obviously not a stoner. not even a surfer, perhaps.

He didn't look old enough to operate on hearts; rather, he could have been a TV doctor. He couldn't have been more than 35 years old. And that's pushing it.

She laughs loudly. I'm aware, right? He's one of the best, so they must have tormented him in medical school. surgeon and a good man. Her demeanor changes. "Therefore, there is nothing to worry about around him."

My head is lowered. "I suppose."

Olivia spits up her lungs. "You appear to be ready for some exercise."

My eyes wander back to hers. "The longer I lie here, the more I feel like my muscles are fading away. A stroll would be pleasant.

Her grin broadens. I can assist with that, I suppose. We can complete a lap of the floor when I fetch some slippers for your feet and a walker. Get hungry a lot before lunch.

A lap seems appropriate. I can use it to determine the best route to take and the location of a clothing store before I flee. "Perhaps two."

* * *

I failed to complete two laps. As it stands, I can only manage one before the agony in my ribs, my aching shattered wrist from gripping the walker, and a weakness that results from going for an extended period of time without moving to defeat me.

I go back into bed with Olivia's assistance and fall asleep once more, feeling as though I've run a marathon rather than just taken a five-minute walk.

The light outside seems softer when I blink my eyes open.

Obviously afternoon.

From the door, a kind voice cries, "Oh good, you're awake." Olivia. Lunch is going to be served, and I didn't want to wake you up.

"Okay." Just let's hope I can identify this food. The duration is "How long?"

She looks down the corridor. "Perhaps 30 minutes. I could—if you're currently hungry.

I take my time sitting up, keeping my face expressionless to hide the pain it causes me to accomplish it. I'm already shaking my head. "No. I hoped it would be acceptable if I took another stroll.

Her eyes flinch with surprise. Once in a day twice? Are you certain you're not working too hard?

Though I don't have the luxury of staying in bed till I feel well again, I most likely am. Those cops will return with questions for me at some time tomorrow. Questions that I'm unable to address. "No. I am capable.

She appears unconvinced.

I give it a shot, and this smile feels much more sincere than the one I previously gave her. "Promise. I'll let you know if I grow tired. It's incredibly difficult for me because I'm not used to lying down for such a long time.

She wouldn't be grinning at me in such a way if she knew how much time and how many members of Darius's pack I spent on my back. She wouldn't even be grinning. "Five minutes, then. As crucial as exercise is rest.

I count the number of fire exits as we complete another lap of the floor: Three. Determine which floor I'm on: Eight. Around the nurse's station, how many nurses are present? Six. I'm not sure how helpful the most recent information will be once I've made my getaway. I can avoid being spotted by six nurses by dodging them. Probably. But what's more? I'm not sure.

Knowing that the nurse's station is close to the lift and a few steps from my room is useful.

Though I didn't anticipate seeing any on this floor, I don't see any staff restrooms. There were just patient rooms, with a constant stream of visitors—other patients' families—entering and leaving.

I will have to descend the fire exit to my room's left and climb eight flights of stairs without a walker despite having damaged ribs and weak muscles. challenging but not impossible. And I'm inspired.

I'm exhausted and in excruciating agony when I get back to my room, but I'm doing my hardest to disguise it from Olivia because I still have one more lap around my floor to go. I really need to get some exercise, as these laps have demonstrated. I'm making an effort to ignore the fact that I don't have any money, food, or even a place to stay, but that issue will come up later. Cop evasion comes first.

Just as I'm getting comfortable in bed, a voice from farther down the corridor calls out the arrival of the lunch cart. My tummy grumbles merrily. At least I won't have to worry about finding food or lodging today. And tomorrow?

Amanda, consider that later. Later.

* * *

When I slink out of bed, day is turning into night. I've had five hours to consider my options in great detail. to listen as well.

There's no way I can stay in this city and hope I never run into Darius or the rest of the pack, even if he thinks I'm dead by this point. I am simply just not that lucky, if history has taught me anything at all.

The almost continual chatter of people walking by my room has subsided to the point that it is now quieter than it has been all day. But that won't last forever. Dinner will be served soon, so I won't have much time to depart before someone discovers I've vanished.

I could wait till the morning, but I doubt it will be as calm at the hospital then as it is right now. Additionally, police officers work 12-hour shifts, so you never know when they might stop by.

I walk gingerly over to my door and prepare an explanation in case any of the nurses ask me what I'm doing. I'll just tell them if they inquire that my back hurts from all the sitting and that's why I needed to stretch. but only if they inquire, as they could otherwise wonder why I'm now talking so much.

I pause just inside the doorway and turn my head left towards the fire exit, then right towards the nurse's station and lift. The corridor is nearly empty because the majority of the patients' family have left for home. My attention is drawn to a nurse wheeling a patient in a wheelchair towards the lift. The wheelchair has a noisy wheel.

It's peaceful and calm in the nurses' station. three nurses only. Two are seated on the opposite side, while one leans over the counter and chats and laughs. It's fantastic that everyone is polite and engaged in conversation.

Go now.

I'm about to step outside while forcing a hard swallow when the lift ding stops me. I keep an eye on the distance to the fire exit. I carefully return to my room because it would be impossible to explain away if I got stuck in the middle of the hallway when I was so obviously headed for the stairs below. Just enough for me to still be able to see the person ready to exit the lift, but not enough for them to see me.

As I wait for the doors to open, my heart beats a little louder. I had to wipe my clammy palms against the front of my light blue hospital gown since I have no idea why they have suddenly become so.

Amanda, it's only a nurse.

I re-swallow since there is no justification for me to believe the worst, but that does not stop the dread from rising in my chest. There is going to be a change. A negative item.

A man with dark hair and holding a sizable bouquet of red roses walks out of the lift as it opens.

Nothing is shocking, horrifying, or anything else. Just an acknowledgement that I foresaw this. It was only a matter of time before it happened.

Nathan.