“Oh, I am quite positive he wouldn’t like it, Ms. Bates. I am also quite certain he would resent it. But that doesn’t change the fact that you would still do it. So while you’re standing there preaching to me about what we can and cannot do, I would remind you of three things. The first is—you are no better than us. We do what we have to, to survive. The second is that you aren’t part of this group. Your hesitancy to join has painted a very clear picture that as soon as your Mr. Croft is better, you will be leaving. But the last is this—I have offered you shelter, medical supplies, food… everything you need and then some. And asked for nothing in return—save the possibility of you joining a group devoted to destroying the very thing you are on the run from—and that still hasn’t been enough to afford your respect. As far as I’m concerned, you are ungrateful, rude, and manipulative, and while I appreciate what you did today, it certainly doesn’t merit this level of scrutiny and condescension.”
I found myself speechless in the face of her passionately delivered put-down, unable to find a response to what she was saying. My anger had gradually diminished as she was talking, the wind from my argument evaporating.
Desmond leaned forward and snatched up her handheld, then swiveled her chair around, presenting me with her back in a clear and obvious dismissal.
Silently, I left, closing the door behind me with a definitive click. Resting my back against the door, I felt a surge of worry. I had just majorly pissed off Desmond, and what unnerved me even more was the deep dark blossoming of an idea that Desmond might have been right. About everything.
19
Viggo
I was deep in thought when Violet finally returned, nearly an hour and a half after she had left. She had changed clothes, and her skin was pink and her hair damp, like she had just taken a shower.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured as she entered. She came to sit down on the edge of the bed. Her demeanor was different than before. She looked serious and distracted.
“What happened?” I asked, my attention turning away from my own problems and devoting itself to her.
She gave a slow blink, and then dragged her gaze back over to mine. “Do you think I’m rude? Or ungrateful?”
I frowned, unable to follow her. “No, why would you ask that?”
Violet brought her legs up and stretched out next to me, being careful not to pull on any of the leads or jostle me in any way. I made room for her anyway, shifting on the bed to give her more space. She shot me a grateful glance, and I became aware of how tired she looked.
I adjusted the pillow so that both of us could rest our heads on it, and then lay back down, my muscles trembling from the exhaustion that simple sequence of movements cost me.
She reached for my hand and threaded her fingers through mine.
“Vi… talk to me. What’s wrong?”
A smile formed on her lips. “I’m… just really happy you’re awake,” she said. Untangling my fingers from hers, I cupped her cheek.
“Me too—although I am less than pleased with Dr. Tierney’s medical advice.”
“What’d she say?” Violet asked, stroking my knuckles with her thumb.
I sighed. I gently pulled my hand from hers and shifted my weight to the back of my hip, turning my head to the ceiling. “That it’s going to take four to six weeks to recover my strength. Minimum.”
The words came out frostier than I intended them to, but I was exceptionally frustrated by the situation. I had only been down for twenty-odd days… and now it was going to take just as many or more to recover.
I still had no idea who these people were and where they came from—Violet had left before she could tell me. It was clear she was working with them, but was it all a ruse, or had she joined their cause?
The questions swirling in my head weren’t just directed at the people who were here or the situation we were in. They were also directed at myself, and had started building since the moment Dr. Tierney announced how long it would take to get my full strength back—if I could get it back in the first place.
The could sent a burst of anger through me. I had been in my prime, capable of holding my own in a fight with someone who had super strength when I was wounded. Now what was I? A crippled ex-fighter who could only slow Violet down?
It disturbed me to no end knowing that whatever this situation was, Violet was facing it without me. Would that be our future—her racing off to some other adventure and leaving me behind?
The logical part of my mind reasoned with me. It reminded me that Violet hadn’t left yet, and, gauging from her earlier quips about saving my life and securing a surgical instrument, she had actively gone out of her way to save me.