Shattered Wings: A Dark Mafia Romance (Feathers and Thorne Series Book 3)

Chapter Three

Isabella

Bright light dances behind my eyelids. I hear a beeping sound and lift my hand up to my face. When I tug, there’s a strange pull, like something is holding me back. Slowly, I force one eye open, spots dancing in and out of my field of vision. I blink, and the world tilts into focus, showing me the IV drip poking out of my arm. I frown at the drip and lift a finger up to trace it.

The monitor next to me makes a loud beeping sound.

My frown deepens as my fingers close around the drip, and I try to remove it. Suddenly, Carter is by my side, fingers circling my wrist. Wordlessly, he pushes my hand away and steps forward, blocking my view of the monitor. I rub my hands over my eyes, and when I look back, I see Carter in a wrinkled shirt with specks of dried blood, bloodshot eyes, and tufts of hair standing up on top of his head.

He looks nothing at all like the man I love. Carter looks more like a ghost, a shell of his former self.

And as I inhale, I struggle to remember why.

Little by little, the rest of the room comes into focus, and I realize I’m in a hospital bed, in a paper-thin gown, with a blanket draped over me and a window overlooking the city’s skyline. In the distance, I can make out the squeak of shoes and wheels rolling against the linoleum floors. Gingerly, I sit up straighter, and Carter’s hand darts out to fluff the pillow behind me. He smells like sandalwood and sweat, and it makes some of the knots in my stomach unfurl.

Until he leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead. “You’ve been asleep for two days, dove. How are you feeling?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I swallow and try again, my voice coming out thick and hoarse. “Why am I in the hospital?”

Carter frowns and pulls a chair up to sit next to me. He takes both of my hands in his. “You don’t remember what happened?”

I pause. “I remember you being here when I was drifting in and out of consciousness. Did… did something happen?”

Carter’s face is smooth and expressionless, giving nothing away. But I know something is wrong by the way he holds himself and by the tight set of his shoulders.

Why can’t I remember?

Carter releases a deep breath. “A lot of fucked up shit has happened, dove, but you don’t need to worry about any of that right now. The important thing is that you and the baby are safe.”

My mouth falls open. “You know about the baby?”

“I saw the note. I almost missed it, by the way, so the next time, you should try telling me instead,” Carter says, his lips lifting into the ghost of a smile. “This isn’t the kind of thing I should find out from a note.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Carter searches my face, some of the shadows lifting from his face. “You want to keep the baby, right?”

I grip his hands tighter. “I know it’s not going to be easy, but I want to be a mom, Carter. For what it’s worth, I think you’re going to make a great father.”

Carter releases my hands and stands up. “I don’t know about that. I’ve had to do a lot of shit the past few days to keep you all safe.”

“Why would you…” I trail off as an image comes to mind. When I blink, I see Rich standing across from Tristan, who is panting and bleeding profusely. My heart starts to pound in my chest when another memory comes to mind. One with the gun Carter had given me, the same one I held to Rich’s chest.

All at once, I see the two of us wrestling for control, and I can smell Rich’s blood wafting up my nostrils. I see his mouth form a surprised “O” before he crumples into a heap on the ground. I gasp, sit up straighter, and turn tear-filled eyes to Carter.

“What’s the matter, dove? What happened?”

I shake my head. “I… I can’t tell you.”

Carter’s expression is wounded. “What do you mean you can’t tell me? We don’t keep secrets from each other, dove. Not when it really counts.”

I bury my face in my hands, my shoulders heaving. “I can’t tell you because you’re not going to look at me the same way if I do.”

The bed dips, and I hear Carter sit down. He moves closer to me, but the bed is too small, and I can’t get away from him fast enough. I don’t want to feel his arms around me, and I don’t want him to stroke my hair. I especially don’t want him to be kind and understanding because I don’t deserve it.

“I’m not the same woman you fell in love with,” I whisper from behind closed fingers, my voice catching toward the end. “I’m spoiled now, Carter.”