Ruthless Regret (Ruthless Games Duology #2)

Chapter 59

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

ZAIN

The beeping sound is the first thing that cuts through the haze, its steady rhythm syncing with the dull throb in my chest. My senses slowly start to fire back to life, dragging me back to the surface of consciousness.

Everything feels heavy. My eyelids, my limbs, even my thoughts—they’re all weighed down, like I'm trying to move through molasses.

The sterile smell of antiseptic fills my nose. My mouth is dry, and I try to swallow, but it's like my throat has forgotten how. When I manage to blink my eyes open, the ceiling above me is a blinding shade of white, lit by harsh fluorescent lights.

A hospital.

It takes me a second to remember why I'm here.

The knife. The intruder. The fight.

It all rushes back in a chaotic blur of pain and adrenaline. I shift on the bed, and try to push myself upright, but pain lances through my side, sharp enough to make me gasp.

"Easy there," a familiar voice says.

I turn my head, wincing at the effort. A familiar figure is leaning against the wall, his arms folded, watching me.

"What …" My voice is a rasp, barely a whisper, and I clear my throat, wincing again. "What happened?"

"You're in the hospital. Got yourself stabbed, remember?" There's a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “Thought we agreed you wouldn’t do that anymore?”

“Rook?”

“Surprise.” His voice is deadpan.

“Why ... why are you here?”

“With the fire, Ashley’s attack, and finding Ramsey dead, it wasn’t much of a leap to think they might try again. I was almost at the house when you called with the update from your mom.”

I let my head fall back against the pillow, memories slowly coming back.

The blood soaking through my shirt. The ground rushing up to meet me as my legs gave out. And then—nothing. Darkness.

"Ashley?" I manage to croak out, my heart rate spiking enough that the monitor beside me betrays my surge of anxiety.

"She's safe."

He moves away from the wall and comes closer to the bed. He pours water from a jug into a plastic cup and lifts it to my lips. The water tastes like heaven.

"Bishop's with her."

Relief floods through me, but it's quickly replaced by frustration as I try to piece together what happened after I blacked out. Everything's fragmented—voices, sounds, sensations that don't quite connect.

"The guy who attacked us—" Pain shoots through my side as I try to sit up again.

"His name was Marcus." Rook's voice is flat. "Professional. Been in the game a long time."

"Was?"

Rook's expression hardens. " Was ."

The word hangs between us for a moment. I process this, turning it over in my mind. "You?"

He nods once, sharp and decisive.

"Did he say anything?" I need to know. Need to understand who sent him, who's behind all of this.

"Some." Rook pulls a chair closer to the bed and sits. "But it's complicated."

I close my eyes, fighting against the fog in my head. "Tell me."

"You sure you're up for this?"

"Just fucking tell me."

He gives a low laugh. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“Stop stalling.”

"Alright, but I want to go on record as saying that I’m not sure how much of this you’ll remember once you’ve slept again.” He leans back on his chair. “Marcus was hired muscle. Someone paid him to take out Ashley, and make it look like you snapped—the ex-con getting revenge on the woman who put him away."

"They were going to frame me for killing Ashley?" I sound like an idiot, but I’m struggling to wrap my head around what he’s saying.

"That was the plan." Rook's voice is grim. "He spilled everything before he died. He admitted to killing Ramsey too. Made that look like suicide to cover his employer’s tracks."

My head spins as I try to connect the dots. "The same person hired him for both?"

"Yeah." Rook leans forward. "He was originally hired to kill Jason. Louisa got in the way, and he had no choice but to silence her as well. He also confirmed what we suspected. Ramsey buried evidence during the original investigation because he was told to. The witness who saw Louisa arguing with someone, the inconsistencies in the timeline. All of it was covered up."

"By who?" The question comes out as barely more than a whisper.

“McFadden.”

I stare at Rook, my mind struggling to catch up.

The sheriff? McFadden? The man who was supposed to protect us, who was supposed to have our backs.

“Are you sure?” My voice is barely audible, the disbelief clear in my tone.

“One hundred percent. The murders, you being sent to prison, Ramsey's death— all of it. ”

“But … McFadden ?”

Yet the more I think about it, the more it all makes a twisted kind of sense.

Why everything always seemed stacked against me, why every lead went cold, why there was no police presence at the house after the interview, why someone was able to attack Ashley, why Ramsey was killed.

He had access to everything I was doing. He was one step ahead of me all along.

“He made sure no one was at the house after the interview, so Marcus could get in, kill Ashley and set you up. Except, she fought back, and you saw him. He wasn’t in a position where he could take her out and set the scene the way he wanted, so he ran to regroup.”

“And then … When McFadden showed up …” I have to keep pausing. Talking hurts my throat.

“He made sure there was nothing for forensics to find, turning it into another dead end,” Rook finishes for me.

“What are we going to do?” I ask, my voice cracking.

“We’re going to set a trap. Bishop’s with Ashley. That way no one else can get to her. We need to make McFadden think he’s still in control, that he hasn’t been found out. Then we’re going to take him down. For good.”

I blink at him, the room spinning slightly as I try to process his words.

A trap. For McFadden.

My instincts scream at me to get up, to do something, but the weight of my body keeps me pinned to the bed.

“Rest for now. I’m staying here, Bishop will bring Ashley to see you later today,” Rook says, getting to his feet. “We’ve got this. But when the time comes, we’re going to need you. McFadden has already asked to see you once you’re awake. To get your statement. Before you do that, we need to talk. But you need to be clear headed, so try and sleep for now.”

I nod, or at least I think I do. The edges of my vision blur, exhaustion pulling at me again. I close my eyes, Rook’s words echoing in my mind as I drift back into the darkness.