I nod. “Thanks, Dad.”
“We better go. When can she come home?” he asks Bishop, and I don’t miss the fact that Bishop takes charge of every situation. Even with my dad, who is decades older than him, it’s still Bishop who runs shit. It’s just Bishop. You don’t get more… alpha? I don’t know whether that’s the right word to use, but he just commands everything. Like he’s the alpha of a wolf pack, but the wolf pack is the human race in general. His tattoo is right; he pretty much is a god, and he doesn’t even try. I don’t know whether I want to kiss him or smack him. His ego doesn’t need more feeding, so I’ll go with a smack, and then kiss. Or a combination of both.
“She can leave today. She’s been here for seven days because her heart skipped a couple beats after the incident. They said it was because of the trauma, her drifting in and out of consciousness was her body’s way of dealing with it. The police want to ask her routine questions, too, and they have to because it’s protocol. I’ll be there the entire time, so no need to worry about that.”
My dad straightens his tie that looks like it hasn’t been knotted for at least a couple of days. “Thank you. I’ll start on this phone call for Daemon, see if we can get the ball rolling faster.”
Backpeddling, I just remember Bishop saying seven days, so when my dad and Elena leave, I turn to face him. “Seven days? I’ve been out for seven days?”
Bishop nods, walking toward Tatum and snatching the bag of donuts out of her hands before tossing them into the bin. “Yeah, but your injury is straight forward. You were grazed by the bullet, not actually shot.” I guess that explains how I’m still alive and my throbbing headache.
Tatum snarls at him, leaning back in her chair. “Okay, so anyway.” She looks to Bishop with her eyes large before smiling back to me. “Do you remember anything from that day, Mads?”
They all stop, Bishop and Nate both focusing in on me. I bite down on my lip, thinking over that afternoon. I remember it all. But do I tell them that? Or should I give them parts? I trust them, I do, but like Bishop and Nate have both said in the past, knowledge is power and secrets are weapons. Especially in this fucked up world.
I shrug her question off, picking at the old hospital blanket on my bed. “I mean, I remember some, not all. There’s like, blank spots.” I instantly feel awful for lying, but when I look at both her and Nate, I see they buy it. Until my eyes connect with Bishop, and instead of buying my lies, he sees straight through them. The slant in his evil glare gives that away.
Fuck.
Fuck Bishop and his ability to read people. Is there anything this fucker isn’t good at? Because I’ve got nothing. I think I need to find what it is Bishop sucks at so I can attack it. Just for shits and giggles, and also because I know it’ll drive him crazy. And I sort of like him when he’s mad. That’s a dangerous thing.
“Okay, well that’s okay, right, Nate?” Tate looks to Nate, but he brushes her off, not giving her a second glance. She looks to the floor briefly, gathering her wits again after being shot down so easily. I see it. Right there, I see she’s caught feelings for him.
“Agh,” I moan lightly, annoyed at everything and everyone. “I just want to go home, to my bed, to my shower, to eat food, and watch Netflix in bed all night.” I was meant to say that in my head, but I then realize I said it out loud.
Bishop chuckles. “Done. I’ll go hurry the nurse. You will need to eat something solid before they let you leave though.”
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure Bishop runs the shots in this hospital too, so he will probably get you discharged anyway, what with all the pull he has. Must be nice being a king,” Tatum adds sassily, one eyebrow raised to the high heavens. Ah, I see. That’s why she’s being extra salty toward Bishop; she knows, or has picked up on, or is just being Tatum—about something. Bishop is still glaring at her with his lip curled when he walks out the door. Silence doesn’t last long once he’s gone, because Tatum is instantly at my side.
“I saw Bishop with that nurse lady!” she whispers into my ear. Well, it was supposed to be a whisper, only Nate heard her from the other side of the room as he gathers up all his belongings.
“I heard that, and Tate? Leave it the fuck alone.” Nate doesn’t look at her or acknowledge her presence—at all. This would bother Tate, because as much as she keeps to herself at school, and as much as she’s a loner, she’s a loner by choice. Tatum is beautiful—drop-dead stunning. What with her lush blonde hair and rosy cheeks. She looks like a Victoria’s Secret model. It’s her attitude that needs fixing. But who am I to judge? That’s probably why we get along so well.