Breathe

Chapter 30

Cian

My eyes blinked open, meeting pure darkness. I could barely make out the outlines of the furniture, the dim cupboard in front of me, the stilled ceiling fan above my head. My bones were cinder blocks; when I tried to move, every inch of me seared with pain, my head screaming.

I winced, slamming back down against the pillows.

I was beginning to think this had all been a very bad idea.

I emitted a small groan of pain, the only protest I could give against my motionless body. Not more than a second later, a woman's voice called: "Oh, are you awake?"

I couldn't manage to form words. "Mrrrgh..."

"I'll take that as a yes." The lights flicked on.

It took a moment for my vision to become more than an incomprehensible blur. The woman Nick had brought me to before slamming a blunt object at my head hovered over me, her wide, brown eyes scrutinizing my every detail, as observant as a bird's. Suddenly feeling as if my privacy was being violated, I tried in vain to sink lower into the sheets.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Nick can be a bit harsh at times. If it were me, I would have used a good old-fashioned sedative—because look at you now. You've got an ugly bruise."

Her fingers brushed my forehead, right above my eyebrow. I winced at the tender skin, not realizing how much damage he'd really done. Through gritted teeth, I managed to ask, "Who are you? What is this place?"

The woman stepped back, leaning back against the wall. "I'm Rae," she responded, "one of Nick's subordinates."

"Jesus—ow—how many of you does he have?"

Something in Rae's gaze darkened. "Enough that we're disposable," she muttered, looking away. "He did like that Dempsey kid, though. Too bad about him. You're the one dating his little sister, aren't you?"

"Uh," I stammered. I tried again to pull myself to a sitting position, but my head worked against me, thudding in protest. A sudden wave of lightheadedness flooded me, and I slumped back down in defeat, blinking out the glare of the lights yet again. "Yeah. I'm surprised you know so much about me."

"For a celebrity, you're awfully humble," Rae observed with a chuckle, and before I could ask, she waved me off, already knowing what was about to come out of my mouth. "Don't act like you don't know your worth. You were of interest as soon as you became the first mortal angel...but now..."

I closed my eyes. "Don't remind me."

"How'd it feel, hmm? To have wings and then get them torn from you?"

"Can you not?" I hissed. "Just...tell me where I am, why I'm here."

Rae tapped her foot back against the wall, brushing dark, satin-like hair back from her shoulder. I was stunned for a moment, because the gesture reminded me of Eden—how she always used to play with her hair when she wasn't saying something, twisting the black strands around her fingers. I forced my gaze away. "Whenever we have visitors," Rae began, her tone matter-of-fact, "we bring them here. But you, Cian, you're special. The fallen angels are going to gain their power back, and you're the—"

"Key," I finished on behalf of her. "Yeah. I know that much." Telling me was what got Eden killed.

"I'm sorry, but only Nick, really, knows exactly what he's doing. I was just told to gather a blood sample," Rae elaborated, then pointed a finger at something above my head. With my fatigued form, it took me a moment, but my eyes followed to where she indicated, finding the needle of an IV stuck in the vein of my arm. It was all I could do not to panic; I despised needles, had been squeamish around them ever since I'd woken up in the hospital on my seventeenth birthday. Thus was another reason I hated those bleach-smelling, infection-filled hellholes.