Chapter Thirty-Two

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I've been pacing the hospital floor for six goddamn hours. Peter keeps trying to get me to sit down. Adam keeps saying she's a fighter, she'll pull through. But I've seen death enough to know that she ain't pulling through.

Not with a bullet to the chest.

I sip yet another coffee, looking at Peter asleep beside Adam. His head is leaning on Adam's shoulder and Peter's mouth is open. Adam smiles at me, stretching out his legs and leaning his head on Peters. Moments like this remind me of us as kids. When Crew brought me to the barn a week ago, and I saw Adam on his knees in front of him, I had to act like everything was fine. But it wasn't. Adam is like a brother to me, my mama damn near raised him. But he's not like us, my daddy made sure of it. Told us he's not part of the Snakes, he'll never be a Snake. So when they shipped off to Stanford University, I kept my distance from him. Made sure they weren't involved in the club. Little did I know, Peter was involved and Adam was just trying to make a life for himself with the woman we're swooning over.

Adam's parents owed the club money, his mama did favors for the guys. More so my daddy. Until one day, both my mama and Adam's mama were pregnant. My daddy denied ever sleeping with her, but rumors spread quickly around the club. Whispers still circle it that Adam is really a Donnelly.

Nothing about Adam is like us except for his eyes. Strikingly blue and slanted like almonds.

After the seventh hour and eighth cup of shitty, watered-down coffee, the doctor comes in. He takes off his mask and sighs.

Adam shoots up from his seat, knocking Peter awake. "How is she? Is she okay? Can I see her? Please."

"Slow down there," the doctor says, shifting his gaze between Peter and me. We still have our cuts on. Doesn't look good. Taking it off won't be any better, my arms are covered in tattoos. Tattoos for this damn club.

"How is she?" I ask, arms folded across my broad chest.

The doctor nods. "She flatlined—"

"Oh, God." Adam slaps a hand onto his mouth, choking back his cries.

The doctor puts a hand up. "But she's okay. She made it by the skin of her teeth." He nods. "She's a fighter. I'll give her that."

"I need to see her," Adam says, wiping his eyes.

She might be in an induced coma, heavily medicated, even. I doubt we'll get to see her today.

"Which one of you is her partner?" the doctor asks, scanning the three of us.

Adam steps forward before I can say anything. "I am."

Lucky bastard.

"Whoever her partner is, we're all getting in to see her doc." I stand taller, being as intimidating as I can be. It's working. The doctor is gulping and looking between the three of us again. "Ain't nothing you or anyone can do to stop us."

He nods quickly, stammering and stuttering before clearing his throat. "F-follow me."

Adam's like a kid on speed. He's nervous, looking around and trying to push past the doctor like he knows where he's going. The kid has always been jumpy. That's why he was never one of us. Never built like Peter and me, even though my parents raised him, he was never one of us. He's a good kid, nonetheless. He's the right choice for Zay.

The second we get to her room Adam bursts in and charges for her. Kissing her hands, her face, those succulent lips.

"Babe, hey. Hey, it's me." He brings her hand to his lips and sits beside her.

"Hey," she whispers, her voice gravelly.

She looks tired. Bags under her eyes, paleness to her skin.

Waxy.

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