Feathers and Thorne Series Books 1 - 3: The Complete Collection

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Carter

Suddenly, Tristan’s phone rings, slicing through the air and earning a few startled looks from everyone in attendance. He fishes it out of his pocket and silences it. A moment later, it rings again, louder this time, and a furrow appears between his brows. With a frown, he turns his back on me, and I can barely make out his low and clipped tone.

Until I hear Isabella’s name and the word hospital. Suddenly, I realize I’m not ready to give up yet.

In one quick move, I shove Remy off and jump to my feet. Startled, he stumbles back, and his eyes widen. “You said you weren’t going to fight back.”

“I don’t like it when people don’t honor their side of the deal.” I roll my shoulders and take a step forward. “You breached our deal first. Remember that, will you?”

Remy takes a few steps back until his back collides with the table. “You know this isn’t the answer.”

“You don’t know shit, Remy,” I tell him with a grim smile. “You wanted to play with the big boys. Welcome to the big leagues.”

With that, I throw a punch that has him doubling over in pain. He wheezes and sputters as I grab the back of his neck and yank. His eyes are glazed over with pain, and panic plays out across his features as I throw another punch. Then I throw him onto the floor and step over him. I’m in front of the double doors when Remy lays a hand on my shoulder.

Red-hot fury is pumping through me as I spin around and push his fingers back with a crack.

He howls and cradles his hand against his chest. “You’re insane.”

“Back the fuck off,” I growl, pausing to bare my teeth at him. “Or it won’t end well for you.”

Remy uses his free hand to throw a punch that I easily sidestep. He is losing more and more of the color in his face, but he’s still upright. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t annoyed at his insistence on getting in my way. I throw another punch that has him staggering back and sending drops of blood in every direction. With a frown, I grab Remy by the scruff of his neck and bring his face up to mine.

He holds my gaze in spite of his tremor. “This is who you really are. Admit it. Rich was right to try and end you.”

I shove Remy away and clench my hands into fists. “Fucking yield.”

Remy spits out a mouthful of blood. “Never.”

I advance on him again, and he crashes into a chair nearby, toppling it over. Breathing heavily now, he’s on the floor, on his hands and knees. A moment later, he pushes himself up to his feet and uses the back of his hand to wipe away the blood. His injured hand is held at an odd angle, and he looks like he’s going to be sick, but he still won’t back down.

Fucking hell.

I have to get to Isabella, but I can’t walk away while he’s still on his feet because I have no idea what he’s going to do next. Or what kind of reckless stunt he’ll pull to get to me.

I can’t lead him straight to Isabella, no matter how much I want to get to her. No matter how much I need to be sure she’s okay.

Remy staggers on unsteady feet, his breathing growing more and more rapid. “If you want to stop me, you’re going to have to kill me.”

I punch him again, but the sickening crunch gives me no pleasure. The monster in me howls and writhes against his chains, but I ignore him. This isn’t how this is meant to go.

Fighting my violent nature shouldn’t be so hard, but Remy makes it hard to remember why. Because all I can see is dealing the final blow to end him before I leave. All it would take is for me to let go, and I can go to my family.

Tristan places a hand on my arm, bringing me back to the present with a jolt. “He’s trying to bait you. You know that already.”

I shake Tristan’s arm off. “It doesn’t matter. You know what needs to be fucking done.”

Tristan grips my arm again, harder this time. “There’s another way, Carter. You and I both know it.”

I release a deep breath and glance over at my cousin.

But I’m not seeing the adult who’s become something like a brother to me. When I blink, I see the little boy who stepped out of the shadows to stand up for me, the one who held his hand out when everyone else was too afraid.

The one who would follow me over a cliff.

With a frown, I push the image away and stand up straighter. “I have to get to Isabella.”

“I know.”

I glance over at Remy, who is struggling to his feet, a crazed look on his face. “He has to be taken care of.”

Tristan releases my arm and takes a step back. “That’s why you have a second in command. Go.”

I hesitate. “Tristan, I—”

“Go,” Tristan repeats in a louder voice. “I’ll take care of this.”

Without waiting for my response, Tristan lunges at Remy and knocks him to the floor. Then he glances over his shoulder at me, and I sprint into action. I’m flying out the door and taking the steps two at a time. When I reach the landing, Ernesto materializes next to me, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. He disappears into the shadows, and the car emerges as I’m trying to reach Anita.

Her phone goes straight to voicemail.

I jump into the backseat before the car comes to a complete stop. The door slams with a thud, and Ernesto peels away from the curb.

Sam answers on the sixth ring, sounding breathless and harried. “She’s in the hospital. Anita is with her doctor right now.”

Ice settles in my veins. “What happened?”

“She went into early labor,” Sam replies in a low voice. “That’s all we know so far.”

“Tell her I’m on the way. Tell her I’m coming.”

“I will.”

I hang up and throw the phone against the window. It bounces off the glass, and I’m thrown to the side when Ernesto veers, the car racing forward at an alarming speed. I dig my nails into the seat under me and resist the urge to punch the glass. In the distance, the hospital complex looms, glistening underneath the pale light of the moon. Wordlessly, Ernesto hands me a bag and gives me a gentle smile in the rearview mirror.

“I don’t think you want Isabella to see you like this.”

I swallow, and my trembling fingers move to the button of my shirt. Once I peel it off, I use it to wipe off whatever blood I can. After I pour some water onto the shirt, I use it to wipe my face again, trying to make myself look as presentable as possible. Then I pull on the clean shirt, my fingers moving quickly and deftly over the buttons.

I lift my head and hold Ernesto’s gaze, giving him a slight nod as I do.

Ernesto screeches to a halt next to the curb, and I hurry out, my heart hammering uneasily inside of my chest. The smell of disinfectant and sweat hits me first when I push my way through the double doors. I nearly collide with a dark-haired nurse with a clipboard who points me to the large rectangular-shaped desk behind me.

After finding out where Isabella is, I weave in and out of the throngs of people. Doctors and nurses in blue scrubs race past me in either direction. In the distance, a monitor beeps, making my pulse quicken.

I round the corner and collide with a nurse wheeling a machine away. After a clipped apology, I race down another blue-colored hallway, panic and fear still clawing their way steadily through me. At the end of the hallway, I see the sign engraved on the glass, and I push myself through it. Anita is standing on the other side, and I almost knock her off her feet.

Skidding to a halt, my eyes dart around the room, adrenaline pumping steadily through me. “Where the fuck is she? Bella! Bella, where are you?”

Anita places both hands on my arms. “The doctor is with her now. She went into shock.”

“What do you mean she went into shock? You brought her here.”

“Her blood pressure dropped,” Anita explains, pausing to run a hand over her face. “I don’t know what happened. She seemed like she was fine, but the doctor said something about an infection.”

I push past Anita and cup my hand over my mouth. “Dove! Isabella, where are you? I’m here.”

Sam steps in front of me and frowns. “They’re with her now, Carter. There’s nothing more we can do.”

“Bullshit. I want to see her.”

A uniformed security guard steps in front of me and folds his burly arms over his chest. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down. You’re upsetting some of the other patients and their families.”

“I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks.” My heart is in my ears now, pounding steadily. “I need to find my fiancée. Now get out of my way.”

The security guard stands up straighter. “Sir, if you don’t calm down, I’m going to have to escort you out.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Anita places a hand on my shoulders and leans in. “Carter, this isn’t going to help anyone, least of all Isabella. Do you really want the doctor to be focused on you and not her?”

I look into Anita’s face, my mind still racing as the knots in my stomach tighten.

Ernesto pushes the double doors open and slows when he sees me. After a quick look passes between him and Anita, he takes my arm. Reluctantly, I let him lead me away and onto a balcony on the third floor. There, he releases my arm, and I move away from him.

I have to do something.

“Don’t tell me that I have to sit here and wait,” I say in a low voice. “She’s down there, and they won’t even let me see her.”

“They will as soon as they can,” Ernesto replies, with a shake of his head. “Anita is right, Carter. You know she is.”

I hate that she is. Because I want to turn the entire hospital inside out to find her. I need Isabella to know that I’m here and that I haven’t abandoned her to go back to my old ways.

“You need to take a beat before you go back in,” Ernesto adds in a louder voice. “I’m sure you don’t want Isabella seeing you like this.”

I glance away from Ernesto and look up at the dark sky, with only a smattering of stars out. “Go the fuck away.”

“Carter—”

I hold a hand up. “I won’t do anything stupid, but I want to be alone.”

Ernesto’s gaze is heavy, but he says nothing. Finally, he exhales, and I hear him shuffle away.

“I’ll be inside,” Ernesto murmurs after a lengthy pause. The door slides shut behind him, and I hang my head low.

Every fear and every insecurity I have bubbles up within me, threatening to drag me under. I can’t bear the thought of losing Isabella, not like this. Not when it feels like our lives together have just started.

This isn’t how things are supposed to end, and I shouldn’t have to fight my way through to get to her.

That goddamn Donahue is going to pay.

If Isabella has so much as a scratch on her head when I see her, I’m going to know who to hunt down, and it won’t matter what promise I’ve made to her. Clean hands aren’t worth Isabella’s life, and I can live with her hating me.

I spend the next few minutes trying not to dwell on all the ways things can go wrong.

I’m jumping from one scenario to the next and growing more and more anxious by the minute when Ernesto comes back carrying a Styrofoam cup of coffee. Wordlessly, I take it from him and take a few sips that leave the tip of my tongue burning. Then I hand Ernesto the cup back and turn away from him.

My body is starting to remind me of the beating I just took. With my mind focused on Isabella, my ribs ache with every breath I take, and it feels like my right eye is starting to swell. But no matter the physical pain I feel, it’s nothing compared to the pain that has taken residence in my chest—my heart. I can’t lose Isabella.

With my mind focused on Isabella, I ignore the pain and head back into the hospital. Ernesto strides after me down an empty hallway. When we round the corner, I find a tall doctor with salt and pepper in his hair talking to Anita. Next to him is a young blonde woman who has a clipboard clutched to her chest and a wide-eyed look on her face. My heart is pounding again as I make my way over to Anita and offer the doctor a curt nod.

“This is her fiancé, doctor,” Anita interrupts with a quick gesture in my direction. “I’m sorry, but can you please repeat what you said?”

“Isabella was in distress. Her blood pressure was dangerously low, so we had to deliver the baby. Isabella should be out of surgery soon, but the doctors are still working on the baby.”

It feels like the breath has been knocked out of me.

“But she’s too small,” I protest loudly. “And it’s early.”

“A lot of preemies survive even if they’ve been born at seven months—”

“Preemie?”

“Premature baby,” the young blonde answers after a quick look at her clipboard. “She’s in the NICU right now, and our pediatrician is working on her.”

“Who are you?”

“This is Dr. Stevens. She’s part of the group of medical students who just graduated. She’s assisting me today, and in some cases, she’s the one performing the procedures—”

I take a step forward and curl my hands into fists at my side. “You let this child operate on my fiancée?”

“This is a teaching hospital,” Dr. Mullins continues in the same even voice. “Your fiancée was never in any danger, and I was monitoring Dr. Stevens the whole time. Even as she took your daughter out and put her into an incubator—”

“You let her operate on my fiancée and on my daughter?”

Dr. Mullins stops talking and draws himself up to his full height. “Mr. Blackthorne, I can assure you—”

I close the distance between us, and Dr. Mullins takes an involuntary step back. “Assure me what? That you were fucking there to make sure she learned on my fiancée? Like she’s some kind of goddamn guinea pig? And if that’s not bad enough, you let her touch my newborn daughter?”

Dr. Mullins frowns. “Mr. Blackthorne, I can assure you they’re receiving the best care possible. There’s no need to get all worked up.”

“I’ll get as worked up as I want,” I snap, pausing to give the younger doctor a warning look, which she shrinks back from. “She barely looks like she’s out of high school, and you let her operate on the two most important people in my life. How the fuck do you think I’m supposed to feel?”

Because right now, I feel like I’m dangerously close to being hauled out of the hospital, kicking and screaming. I’m too close to slamming someone against the nearest wall. All because of the incompetent idiot standing before me, who decided that using Isabella as a teaching tool was far more important than treating her.

I’m bristling and shaking with fury when Daniel and Tristan come in and immediately head over to where I’m standing. Dr. Stevens’ lower lip is trembling, and she looks close to tears when Daniel places a hand on my arm and drags me away. I hear Anita and Sam make apologies and excuses for me, but I can barely make out what they’re saying.

Other than the dull ringing in my ears, nothing else seems to make sense. Not the fact that Isabella and our daughter are in the hospital. Or the fact that I survived Remy Donahue trying to beat me to a pulp. And not the fact that I’m the one walking around while Isabella is in a hospital bed.

Why does this keep happening to me?

Daniel keeps dragging me until we push our way through the double doors and into the half-empty parking lot outside. Underneath a flickering streetlamp, he stops and takes his hand off my arm. Through narrowed eyes, I stare at him and debate whether or not it would feel good to punch him.

To wipe that smug, self-assured smirk off his face. It has to be better than taking my anger out on the medical staff in charge of Isabella’s well-being.

I take a step in Daniel’s direction, but he doesn’t flinch. “What are you even doing here?”

“Anita called me. We’re still family, Carter. No matter our disagreements and differences. I wanted to be here for you, Isabella, and the baby.”

“And your idea of being here is dragging me away?”

“You were seconds away from punching her doctor, and you made his intern cry,” Daniel points out in the same calm voice. “I did you a favor.”

“I’m not rolling out the fucking welcome parade,” I snap, pausing to run a hand over my face. “He’s a fucking idiot who thinks Isabella is some kind of guinea pig. He needs to be taught a lesson.”

Daniel blows out a breath. “And what’s your solution here, Carter? Are you going to storm into the hospital and pummel him? Or go after his medical staff?”

I give Daniel my most withering stare, but he doesn’t budge an inch. “It’s better than standing out here and talking. What good is that going to do?”

“A hell of a lot more good than causing a scene inside.” Tristan materializes next to Daniel, both of his hands shoved into his pockets. “The doctor still wants to call the police. I left Ernesto and Anita to deal with him.”

“I don’t give a shit what he does.”

Tristan raises an eyebrow. “So, you want to spend your daughter’s first day on this earth in jail? How would you like me to explain that to Isabella when she wakes up?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Tristan takes a step forward and frowns. “Why? Because you can’t handle what I’m telling you? We’re on your side, Carter. We’re not against you, and you know that.”

I throw both hands up and scowl. “So, that’s it, huh? You won’t agree to step up if things fall apart, but you’ll rush to Daniel’s side when it comes to me? What the fuck, Tristan?”

“I’m not rushing to anyone’s side. I’m trying to help you, damn it.”

“Help me by keeping me away from Bella? By stopping me from doing whatever it takes to keep her and my daughter safe. She’s a fucking baby, and they let that two-bit moron be in charge—”

“This is how interns learn, Carter,” Daniel interrupts, pausing to lift his head up so he’s looking at me directly. “This is how some hospitals work. It’s why they’re called teaching hospitals.”

A headache is building in the back of my skull. The quiet rage is still burning through me, and Daniel and Tristan are making it worse.

Rather than making me see reason, they’re making me want to add them to the body count.

I’m too fucking close to the edge, and I don’t know how to pull myself back or how to begin to imagine a world where Isabella might not exist. She’s not going to die. I won’t let her.

Growling, I punch the nearest wall, the sharp jab of pain taking some of the edge off. Panting, I punch the wall again and again, earning a few startled looks from others who are passing by. Unable to quell the swell of emotion within me, I punch the wall until my knuckles are bruised, and blood drips onto the pavement below my feet.

My chest is still tight, and the panic in me hasn’t abated. My inner monster is prowling and tugging on his chains, and I’m tempted to let him out.

Tristan places both hands on my shoulders. “Listen to me. You left Isabella to figure out a way to make things work, to find a different kind of life for yourself. Do not throw it all away now.”

I push Tristan away and storm back into the hospital, seeing red everywhere I go.

Outside of the emergency room doors, a group of nurses is standing around a rectangular shaped table. The blonde-haired intern is standing in the middle with a smile on her face. As soon as she sees me, her smile falls, and she takes an involuntary step back.

When Tristan and Daniel find me, I’m shaking with rage as I stand a few feet away, and the intern’s lower lip is trembling. Her eyes are shining with tears, and the group of women who are standing next to her have formed a half-circle. A few of them are staring at me in horror and fear, while others have their shoulders squared and look ready to place themselves between us.

I don’t realize that I’m still lecturing her until Daniel places both arms around me and drags me off. On our way out of the hospital, a group of uniformed men stops us. Daniel is saying something in a low voice and gesturing to me, but I’ve gone absolutely still at the sight of newborns being wheeled past.

Is one of them mine? Have I lost any and all chances to be a part of her life?

To be a part of Isabella’s?

I slump against Daniel and squeeze my eyes shut. His grip is lighter as Tristan’s voice joins his, and they lead me back out into the empty parking lot. In a daze, I let them lead me to Ernesto’s SUV. In the back, I throw my head against the seat and press two fingers to my temples. I’m rubbing in slow, circular motions when I hear the car doors open and slam shut.

Silence stretches over the SUV.

I keep one hand on my forehead, and the other reaches for the glass decanter. I pour myself a generous amount of whiskey and toss it back. Then, I pour myself some more and do the same, hoping to quell the insatiable urge inside of me.

Tristan and Daniel are right. There’s something deeply wrong with me, and I don’t know whether being away has helped or tricked me into thinking it has.

It’s only dulled some of my sharper edges, but they’re still there, and without Isabella around, there’s no one to keep my monster at bay.

“Look, I know this is a lot of shit to handle, but Isabella is strong,” Tristan murmurs. “She’s going to come out of surgery, and she’ll be fine. And you and her and the baby will go on to have a nauseatingly happy life.”

My eyes fly open, and I stare at Tristan. “When the fuck did you get so optimistic?”

Tristan grimaces. “Being around Sam and Isabella most of the time… those two are really something.”

I swallow and nod. “Yes, they are.”

Tristan goes quiet and twists to look at the front again. Daniel is sitting in Ernesto’s seat with both hands on the wheel and a reserved expression on his face. After my fourth drink, I stumble out of the car and sink to my knees. I have my head buried in my hands when Tristan gets another phone call.

Slowly, he helps me to my feet, and we walk through the double doors of the hospital. All the medical staff steers clear of me like I have some kind of disease.

Anita is waiting for us at the door to the recovery wing. She frowns when she looks at me and says nothing. Tristan and Daniel wait outside, and Anita takes my hand, leading me past several empty rooms, her shoes squeaking against the linoleum floors. On the far end of the hallway, a door is open, and Sam is standing at the foot of a bed with a hand over her mouth.

Isabella is lying on the hospital bed with a tube in her mouth and a machine beeping in the corner. In her paper-thin hospital gown with white-washed walls on either side of her, she looks impossibly small. My knees give out, prompting Sam and Anita to hoist me up. I sink into the nearest chair and bury my face in my hands.

For the first time in years, I cry. My shoulders shake and heave as wave after wave of emotion washes over me.

Anita places a hand on my shoulders and squeezes. “The doctor said they had to put her in a medically induced coma to reduce the side effects.”

My tongue feels heavy and awkward. “Side effects?”

“Because her blood pressure dropped, she got an infection,” Anita explains in the same low voice. “She’s stable now, but they have no idea when she’s going to wake up.”

“Or if,” I add in an impossibly soft voice. “This can’t be fucking happening.”

Anita crouches in front of me and waits till I look up at her. “Look at me, Carter. Isabella is strong. Stronger than any of us give her credit for, and she’s been through a lot. You can’t give up on her, and if you’re not going to do it for yourself, do it for your daughter.”

I stare at Anita, some of my anger abating.

“Your daughter needs you,” Anita adds, with a lift of her chin. “Let’s go check on her. Sam and Tristan will stay with Isabella.”

In spite of my protests, Anita drags me away. On my way past Sam and Tristan, I see him gather her into his arms as she sobs. I force myself to look away as we step onto the elevator. There’s still a low pounding in my ears and knots in my stomach as I wait for the doors to ping open. On the fourth floor, when they open, the smell of air freshener hits me first.

There are women in pink scrubs rushing past in either direction.

Anita’s grip on my arm is still secure as she drags me across the floor and stops on the other side of a glass display. She scans the babies through the window and settles on a lone figure in the back, inside of an incubator. Then she releases my arm and twists to face me, her eyes filling with tears.

“You need to see your daughter.” Anita gestures to a nurse, and she brings over medical gowns to put over our clothes. I don’t say anything as Anita takes my hand, just like she used to do when I was a little boy, and we step through the glass doors. The room is warm, and there’s a soft humming sound in the background.

When we reach the incubator, Anita steps on the other side of it and peers. “She’s so beautiful, Carter.”

I touch two fingers to the glass, and something in me crumbles and unfurls. “She does.”

“Tristan told me about Remy Donahue,” Anita continues without looking at me. “He told me that you didn’t fight back at all and were willing to let him kill you.”

I shrug and continue to study the frail figure wrapped in a tiny blanket, her small and round face a bright shade of red. She uncurls her fingers and stretches her arms over her head. Then she twists when I begin to whisper under my breath.

“You still have something to live for, Carter, and something to fight for. Remember that.” Anita squeezes my shoulder on her way past. For a while, I stay there, hardly able to believe that the tiny bundle, scarcely able to take a breath, is mine.

She’s the best of Isabella and I combined.

When the nurse comes back in to check on her, I leave.

I don’t stop walking until I reach the recovery room and find Sam asleep on a chair by Isabella’s side. Her mouth is half open, and her hair is a wild mess around her face, but she’s holding onto one of Isabella’s hands. I pull up another chair and take Isabella’s free hand. My stomach tightens as I brush her hair out of her face and exhale.

“I need you to come back,” I whisper, inches away from her face. “She needs you… our daughter needs you. She’s so small and frail, and you’re the one she needs. Not me.”

Isabella’s chest rises and falls evenly, the machine still beeping steadily.

“We’ve been through a lot,” I continue in the same thick voice. “And even when you were angry with me, you still loved me, and you still cared about me… and I… I don’t want to be that man anymore. I’m not sure if what you saw in me is still there, and I don’t know if I’m worth saving.”

Because there’s too much darkness and chaos inside of me. And it was a lie to believe I could overcome all of it.

For a few brief moments, I let myself believe things could be different. But I know better now.

I bring her hands up to my lips for a kiss. “Just come back, and I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll do whatever is best for you and the baby.”

Even if it means walking away from them for good and letting Isabella have her own life.