“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She reached over and tapped the nurse’s computer screen. “Find Jared Westin. Tell me where he is.”

Baby-face advanced. “Ma’am—”

A similarly uniformed grandpa-lookalike ran around the corner. “Wait! Wait. It’s okay.”

Baby-face kept his Taser trained on her and looked over, looked back, and over again. “Not sure about that.”

Gramps rushed over and whispered to Baby-face. Slowly, the Taser dropped until it pointed to the tile floor. Everyone in the ER watched him. The janitor was holding his mop as though he had planned to fight like a ninja.

Then, turning a knowing glance to Sugar, Gramps cautiously approached her with his hands in the air. “Jared’s in surgery. I’ll take you to a private waiting room.”

Other than the televisions hanging in the corners of the emergency room waiting area, the open space was silent.

“Okay.” Sugar’s tear-soaked voice cracked.

“Come on.” The man dropped his hands and beckoned. “It’s okay. You’re with Titan. Come with me.”

She nodded and followed. Her footfalls clacked with each step. Behind her, whispers and murmurs erupted. She didn’t care. Jared was still alive.

The private waiting room was small and secluded. A few chairs faced a hanging television and a phone. The magazines fanned out on the table looked so foreign, so absurd. She couldn’t contemplate how people could read or care about any issue outside the walls of the hospital when they sat on these couches.

She looked at the phone and wanted to call someone. Jenny. Titan. Maybe ask about Asal. But they would have questions for her, and she didn’t know if she could string together a coherent sentence.

The door cracked, and Roman stuck his head in. “Sugar?”

She nodded, finding that she really couldn’t string words together.

He pushed into the room, followed by Rocco. Both of them looked like hell. Worried eyes. Ruffled hair. They wore their tactical pants and black shirts. They carried their weapons, but Rocco wasn’t armed with as many as he had been before. The battle was done. This was just their everyday weapons wear. Tactical chic.

Rocco nodded. Both men took a seat on the couches and stared at her. Her eyes darted between them, and the air felt heavy, trapped in her lungs. Oh, no. Fuck, no. Please, God… no. “If you have news to share, do it and be done with it.”

If Jared’s dead…

Her throat burned with pain. She needed to vomit. Bile coated the back of her tongue, and hot tears seared her eyes all over again. She couldn’t find a breath. Her lungs stopped. Not one breath in or out, until she gasped, sputtering a cough. “Just tell me.”

“We’re sorry…” Roman shook his head.

“It shouldn’t have happened like this.” Rocco ran his palms over his knees, crossed his arms, and stared at the floor.

“No!”

There it was: the dreaded truth. Denying a fact did no good. Tears spilled onto her cheeks. Her body shook. Her blood-stained hands covered her mouth, her nose, and her eyes. She wanted to slip away and die, right along with Jared.