The doctor was in her mid-thirties with red hair pulled up in a ponytail and kind hazel eyes that made you trust her instantly. “Dr. Ortiz, I’m Dr. Osterman, the trauma surgeon that treated your daughter. Ash suffered multiple rib fractures, a fractured wrist, as well as contusions and bruising to her body. The main causes for concern at the moment are her internal injuries. She suffered bleeding in the lungs and has tubes on both sides of the chest, and a liver laceration from a stab wound to the abdomen. Interventional radiology treated her shortly after she was admitted, and we managed to stop the bleeding, though Ash’s condition continues to be critical.”

The doctor was kind, though her affect was flat, having developed the same trait cops employed, a careful detachment. This wasn’t one of those “she’ll be fine” speeches. Ash was in a fight for her life.

“Can I see her?” Becca asked.

“Of course. We ask that you keep visitors at a minimum. No more than two at a time,” Dr. Osterman said.

“I’ll go with you,” Christian said, stepping forward. She raised her hand to stop him.

“No. I want to… I’d like a few minutes alone,” Becca said. It was always Becca and Ash against the world. It should be just the two of them now. Becca was relieved no one put up a fight. Rafi kissed her on the cheek, and Virginia nodded obediently, silent for a change as she sank into one of the waiting room chairs, tightly clutching her rosary.

“We’ll be waiting right here,” Christian said. Becca couldn’t speak. She needed to stay strong for Ash.

She followed Dr. Osterman through the ICU double doors, past the nurses’ station, and into a small, dimly lit hospital room. There she spotted Ash, her sweet girl lying in the hospital bed, looking smaller than Becca remembered. Ash’s dark hair was splayed out against the pillow, her face a ghoulish shade of gray, so swollen she appeared otherworldly.

Becca clutched Ash’s hand, her skin soft and warm. It was impossible to imagine how much Ash had suffered. She thought of Mo and the others, going about their lives like nothing was wrong. She thought about what they’d done, the sheer brutality of it, and she wanted to hurt each and every one of them.

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” Becca whispered, clutching Ash’s hand. “I didn’t mean to let you down.” All she wanted to do was crawl into the bed and wrap her arms around Ash. Her injuries made that impossible. She would have to settle for holding her hand.