Chapter FOURTEEN

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Kirby Carter

Soft beeping, the hum of machines and whispered murmurs greet your ears as you blink awake beneath bright white fluorescent lights feeling like you've been put through the wringer..

The smell of disinfectant and lemon lingers in the air, that familiar hospital scent making you all kinds of uneasy.. "W-where am I?"

You rub your eyes, still adjusting to the lights as a stern faced, middle-aged man in a white coat leans over the bed.. "You're at the SPC medical centre, Miss Carter.. You suffered quite a severe syncope.. Were still running some tests, we will know more soon.."

"SPC?..What is that? How did I get here--?" You try to shake the strange, disoriented sensation that fogs your mind as you push up on your elbows to peer around the very expensive looking hospital room, your head pounding..

Your eyes scan the room for only a second before they land on him..

The Viking..

He stands five feet away, behind the Doctor, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.. Watching you like a hawk, his intense grey eyes locked with yours.. There is a trace of concern on his face, but he mostly just looks pissed off.. You have no idea why he would be so mad at you.. Maybe because you said you were leaving town and then didn't.. But then, why is he here?..

How did he find you?..

Or even more importantly, what the hell happened to you?!

Last thing you remember, Declan Darby was slipping a phone into your pocket.. Looking down you see that you no longer have that phone because your clothes have been replaced by a pale blue hospital gown..

Shit.. That's bad.. You need that phone..

"Viking? What is going on?.. What are you doing here?" You blink at him, confused..

He takes an apprehensive step closer to your bed.. "I found you, Duchess.. You were unconscious.."

You're about to ask the viking how he found you and a million other questions, when Patrick comes barrelling through the doorway, radiating pure rage, his muscles twitching and his teeth clenched..

O'connor points a finger straight at the viking, heading towards him.. "You're a real fuckin' prick, ya' know that Paxton?!"

The viking steps forward, holding up his hands as if trying to temper O'connor's fury.. It doesn't work.. "O'connor.. Now isn't the time for--"

Patrick winds up, punching the viking square in the jaw..

Ragnar doesn't fight back, instead he takes the hit, his head rolling to the side with the motion and like lightning Patrick tackles him to the ground, beating him with heavy fists..

Trollies filled with medical equipment go flying, the pieces clattering to the floor around them as they scuffle.. The viking defending his handsome face from taking the blows, but not fighting back otherwise.. Even now..

Everything moves so fast and in your haze you have no idea what is happening.. The commotion makes your headache throb harder and if you weren't stressed enough before..

This sure isn't helping..

"No.. Guys, stop it please.." Patrick doesn't stop, so you spring up from the bed.. "Patrick.. Patrick stop!.. O'CONNOR FUCKIN' STOP!"

At the sound your your very loud, very angry Irish accent, Patrick freezes, his fist hangs in mid air pulled back ready to strike, The Viking shields his face with his forearms.. But instead of continuing, O'connor turns to blink up at you, surprised..

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