Chapter 22

**MARLOWE**

This was unbearable! Torin had been in surgery for hours and I just kept thinking, hold on, don't let go. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. God and I had never been on close terms. I had long ago decided he didn't exist, but right now, if he truly was there, Torin needed him.

So, putting aside all my disbelief in God's existence, I became a hypocrite and prayed, placing all the cards in His hands. I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know how many times a person could ask the same favor repeatedly. But until I knew Torin was okay, the supposed man upstairs was going to be bombarded with my pleas. My butt had long ago fallen asleep, and standing, I signaled Rook to stay seated when he made to climb to his feet as well. "Stay where you are, I just need to move around a little," I told him.

With a quick nod, Rook settled back into his seat, and raising his coffee cup, he sipped at the now luke-warm contents, his eyes following me as I made my way over to a window, peering out of it. The sun was beginning to rise, encasing the outside in what I knew was probably a spectacular color, but it was beyond me at the moment to find the beauty.

Blowing out a breath, I turned from the window, and began making my way back over to the couch, but before I sat down, Rook murmured, "I know what you are going to say, but hear me out. We have no idea when we are going to hear something, you are going through something traumatic to your emotions, and creating a physical effect. You need to eat. So, let's go see what kind of nasty shit they are calling breakfast. My treat."

I considered his offer and realizing he was right and that I felt nauseated, I gave a nod. Standing, Rook draped his arm across my shoulders, and began to lead me to the door, just as the phone beside the couch rang.

~~

My feet froze to the floor. I'd known the phone would ring eventually, but now that it was, I feared someone answering it. Burdock quickly moved over to it, and then grabbing the hand piece, he carried it to his ear, spitting, "Yes?"

As I watched, Burdock closed his eyes, then sagged onto the couch. "Yes, yes I heard you," he murmured.

A few more seconds passed, then he remarked, "I understand. Thank you."

Slowly he replaced the hand piece in its cradle, at the same time his shoulders dropped, and I felt my heart drop as well. Finally looking up, his eyes bloodshot, he breathed, "He made it through the surgery, but the y said he's not out of the woods by a long shot."

I withered like a balloon, and thankfully Rook caught me before I hit the floor. Though it was wonderful news, I had nothing. I was mush.

Rook, holding me against him to keep my feet under me, muttered, "Food. No arguments!"

I didn't even try.

ONE HOUR LATER

I sat beside Torin's bed, my eyes glued to all the tubes and beeping machines. Torin had yet to regain consciousness, but the nurse had told me he would when his body was ready.

Restless, I stood, and reaching out, I lightly ran my fingers across his cheek, feeling the bristles of his newly shorn beard. This was the first time I had been able to see the larger extent of the damage to his face, as the beard had hidden a large percentage. Bending, and knowing he wouldn't know of my actions, I placed my lips on the scar, lightly kissing it.

The disfigurement was warm and raised beneath my lips, but it didn't bother me, and as a tear slipped from beneath one of the lowered lids of my eyes, I made to pull back. Gentle fingers reached around the back of my head, keeping me in place as Torin lightly wrapped them within my hair.

For minutes he did nothing but just hold me against him as his fingers played with my hair, then withdrawing, he allowed me to stand once again. Afterward, looking into my eyes, and voice still hoarse from surgery, he murmured, "Hi, Kitten."

Wiping at the moisture on my cheek, I smiled softly down at him. "I ought to just kill you myself for putting us all through this, you bastard!"

He gave me a weak smirk. "Be easy to do, I'm kind of pudding right now—got no strength."

With a sniff, I wiped at another wayward tear, before murmuring, "How you feeling?"

"Sore as fuck and tired," he returned groggily, his eyes half closed.

I nodded. "I bet."

"How long I been here?" he questioned.

"You were brought in last night," I answered. "So, about fourteen hours, now, I guess."

He popped an eye open at that. "You been here the whole time?"

With a small nod, I said, "Me and others. Besides, where else would I be? You damn near died, Torin!"

Eyes closing with exhaustion, he murmured, "When I get out of here, we have a lot to talk about. But for now, I think I need to slee…"

His words trailed off as he gave into exhaustion and the effect of pain medication. Stepping back over to his side, I ran my fingers through several long strands of his hair. Then turning, I made my way out of the room.

**TORIN**

It had been several weeks since I was shot, and I was still sore as fuck—would be for awhile. This was not the first time I'd been shot, but I had never taken one in the shoulder.

It was a bitch, and I was supposed to go back several days a week for rehab. I wasn't going to. I had Doc—a military med—and he was all I needed.

As I had been recovering in the hospital, I had a lot of time to think and I realized I didn't like running from my shadows—but I was still living within them. I had hid a hell of a lot from everyone. It was too fucking dangerous not to; I could end up taking them all down with me; especially Marlowe.

I'd heal if the backlash fell back onto the others: but not her.

In the end, one truth stood out—this was a single man's journey. I was going to have enemies coming after me from every fucking direction.

I was done playing games. I was taking every bastard down who had ever done me wrong.

But first, I had to make a little side trip. I was going after Dillon. The friendship he and I had, dissolved a long time ago, and I felt no loss over it. But I'd be damned if he'd take what was between me and him out on Marlowe—she had done nothing to deserve the threat he had leveled against her, except be the mother-fucker's sister. Brother needed to learn some truths…then he'd meet his maker.

Laying my head back against my pillow, I closed my eyes. Through my earbuds, I listened to Rag'n'Bone Man singing, Anywhere Away From Here. I felt every word.

**MARLOWE**

Why was it, I wondered, I spent most of my life in confusion and feeling unwanted? I'd never understood why it seemed my dad had hated me. I'd never understood why my own brother hadn't loved me enough to give a shit if I died in a ditch somewhere after he'd kicked me out of the club.

I hadn't heard anything from him since that day. I'd tried once to go back to the Sons Of Morning Star's compound, but I'd been refused entrance.

Now, I sat under the tree I had adopted on the third night I'd been at the Raven's compound, and contemplated my and Torin's relationship. He'd been back at the compound for several weeks, but he hadn't wanted to see me. I didn't understand. All I knew was that it had been Satan who had come home from the hospital.