Dollars (Dollar #2)(4)

I let him prattle on all while my fingers stroked my pen and paper gift.

“I was the surgeon who worked on you. I ensured your tongue was repositioned correctly and sutured with internal and external stitches—don’t worry, they’ll dissolve on their own in a week or so.”

A week?

That wasn’t long enough, was it?

“Tongues are the fastest part of our bodies to heal. You should have full mobility back very soon. The pain and swelling will decrease every day. However, I can’t guarantee you’ll have full use of your taste buds and heat sensitivity. That is out of the realms of my expertise, I’m afraid.”

My mind whirled with information and questions.

Will I be able to talk?

Will I be allowed to go home once I’m better?

“I also took the liberty to ensure your other injuries were tended to while you were unconscious.” He pointed at my plastic cast and bandaged hand and another bandage that tightened around my ribcage every time I breathed. “You had a few heavily bruised ribs, and obviously, you knew the bones in your hand were broken.” His smile was gentle but full of authority—just like other doctors in my past. “I did my best to tend to you, but you have my oath, I didn’t touch you anywhere else.”

If I wasn’t so shocked to have a man doing his utmost to assure me no untoward attention was given when I wasn’t awake to even notice, I might’ve smiled.

I might’ve reached out willingly for the first time and patted his arm with gratitude.

But all this attention—kind, healing attention—made me nervous. I couldn’t stop searching for the underlying hellion who would make me pay for such kindness by beating me bloody.

I dropped my gaze. I wanted solitude so I could investigate my body and patch together the missing pieces of the past few hours.

All I could think about was Elder as he held me tight in his car. He hadn’t cared about the blood or the fact he’d committed a crime for me. He’d just given me permission to use his name and then deposited me here.

What does he expect in return?

Nothing was free and killing to give me life was the biggest debt of all.

Dr. Michaels didn’t look away as I opened the notebook and clicked the pen to reveal the nib. My brain hurt with unanswered questions and fears. No One was my outlet for such worries. The only one I could turn to.

My fingers itched to write; to scribble as fast as I could and demand freedom and food and fantastical things like my mother to find me and my friends to welcome me back to life. But all I could do was stroke the pristine lined paper and sniff silently as tears slowly spilled from my eyes.

I didn’t mean to cry—I didn’t even realise liquid had formed until tears tracked unpermitted down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop the droplets, just as I couldn’t stop the throbbing of my tongue or the battering memories of what I’d endured at the hands of that sadistic bastard.

Long minutes passed where I forgot about the doctor and spiralled into myself. The silence grew too much for him; he cleared his throat again. “I’ll leave you to rest. I have no doubt you’ve been through a lot.”

He lowered his voice. “Whatever happened is over now. Don’t let the memories haunt you, okay? You’re safe.”

Patting my hand, he smiled softly. “As long as you’re on the Phantom, Mr. Prest will take care of you.”





“SIR, THE GIRL is awake.”

My head wrenched up from the glowing screen of my laptop. Selix stood over the threshold in a fresh suit with his long hair neatly tied. Whether it was a casual day at sea doing office work or tearing through the city with a dying girl in the backseat, his look didn’t change. It never had—even our days on the streets he’d been the same. Perhaps, not in a suit, but identical in calculating intelligence and uncut hair.

I respected him for that.

I just wished I exuded the same calm he did. My insides were a tangled mess. My temper harsh with crippling need to tear apart those animals again and again, then force Pim to speak to me as payment.

I’ve earned it, goddammit.

The silent treatment wouldn’t work now she was in my domain. It couldn’t. I’d claimed her. My requirements would only get stronger and harder to ignore—only her voice would offer temporary relief.

Reclining in my chair, I gave Selix my full attention. Ever since we left port, I’d used the satellite internet to check the police scanners and crime network for any hint of the blood-bath at Alrik’s home.

It bothered me that nothing had been reported even six hours after the incident; and it f*cked me off that the third friend who’d been at dinner that first night hadn’t turned up to be murdered, too.

He was still out there.

Raping and hurting—polluting the world with his defilement.

I’d track him down eventually and put him out of his misery, but for now, more pressing things needed my attention.

“Was Michaels able to save her tongue?” My voice resembled scratchy granite. I hadn’t spoken for hours, and the effects of no sleep made me rough.

“I believe he wanted to give you the report himself.” Selix stood to the side, welcoming the onboard doctor into my office. The moment Michaels appeared, Selix nodded and vanished through the door, closing it quietly.

“I trust you’re relaxing now you’re back home?” Michaels came forward.