BRYCE
The hospital waiting room smelled like antiseptic and fear.
I sat in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs, watching nurses move past, listening to the steady beep of monitors from somewhere down the hall.
Mom sat beside me, still wrapped in the blanket from her apartment. She hadn't stopped shaking since we'd arrived.
Mira was being examined. Had been for the past hour.
The doctor finally emerged. "Ms. Carter's family?"
We both stood.
"Your daughter is going to be fine. Minor bruising, some dehydration, mild shock. We're giving her fluids now. She'll need to stay for observation for a few hours, but she can go home tonight."
"They didn't—" Mom's voice broke. "They didn't—"
The doctor's expression softened. "No. She wasn't sexually assaulted. Just roughed up during the kidnapping. She's very lucky."
Lucky. Right.
Lucky that Sloane had found her in time. Before the rogues decided to—
I couldn't finish the thought.
"Can we see her?" I asked.
