Back off, copper? Geez. Finn had been watching too many old crime movies with Sophia Deveraux.
Bria's blue eyes narrowed. "Why don't we leave it up to Gin? See what she wants to do?"
Finn narrowed his own eyes in response. "Fine. She'll tell you herself that she's coming with me, detective."
The two of them glared at each other another moment, before staring at me. Finn, his features pinched tight. Bria, looking just as serious as he did. The man I considered my brother and my long-lost baby sister. Emotions welled up in my chest, making it hard to breathe. Or maybe the sensation was just from all the internal bleeding I was suffering from tonight. Either way, it hurt.
But I really only had one choice in the end. Finn was my foster brother, my closest confidant, my best friend, the one person I trusted above all others. Bria was a mercurial ghost from my past, a stranger with an angel's cold face. Gotta dance with the one who brung ya.
"Finn. I want... to go with Finn." For more reasons than one, it pained me to force out the words through my broken jaw, but I did it anyway. Pain and I were old, old friends.
Bria frowned and looked at Finn, who gave her a haughty, smug, I-told-you-so smirk. She turned her attention back to me.
"All right. That's your choice, ma'am. But before you go, can you tell me who did this to you? Who beat you?" Eyes hard, lips tight. Grim, determined features, but not unkind ones.
Detective Bria was just trying to do her job like an honest cop would. She seemed so... good. So protective of others. So willing to help. For some reason, all that made me proud of her. That she seemed to have grown up so strong. Right now, she still thought I was an innocent victim, instead of someone who'd brought all this on herself.
The absurd thought made me smile, but I don't think it came off very well because Bria blanched at the expression.
"I... fell," I rasped.
Against my side, Finn's chest twitched with laughter just the way Xavier's had a few minutes ago. Finn was trying to stifle a chuckle. He recognized sarcasm when he heard it, even if I was merely mumbling the words, instead of delivering them with my usual dose of dry, sardonic acid.
Bria's blond eyebrows shot up. "You fell? Onto what? Somebody's fists?"
"I fell," I repeated again.
Xavier stepped closer to Bria. "Let it go, detective. Just for tonight. Gin needs to get some help. I'll vouch for her and Finn."
Bria glanced at the giant, then at Finn, and finally back at me. She realized we were all aligned together, but she didn't rage and rail against us the way I thought she might. Instead, she gave a curt nod of her head. "All right, Ms. Blanco. You fell-for now. But don't think this is over. I'll have some questions for you in a few days when you're feeling better."
"Does that mean we can go now?" Finn drawled.
Bria's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, you can go now. And if I find out your sister hasn't gotten the best medical treatment in Ashland, I'll be charging you with abuse. Got it, pal?"
Finn flashed her a wide, toothy grin. "Oh, I've definitely got your number, detective."
Bria snorted and turned on her heel, much the same way Mab Monroe had done earlier in the evening. She moved off and started talking to the security guard who'd found my supposedly dead body. I couldn't hear what she was saying to him, but the guy didn't seem pleased by Bria's short, clipped words. He scrunched his neck down into his jacket, a turtle pulling its head back into its shell. Looked like my sister was all grown up now-and something of a badass herself.
I wasn't sure if that was good or bad-or what I was going to do about the whole situation. Too many questions, not enough answers. Not to mention the relentless pain pounding through my body like a red-hot sledgehammer.
"Xavier, you have our thanks," Finn murmured to the giant. "I'll take good care of you the next time I'm at Northern Aggression. Promise."
Xavier nodded. "No problem. I helped you with your situation tonight, you can help me with mine tomorrow."
The two men exchanged a long look that was just a little too meaningful for my liking. What was that about? What kind of problem did Xavier have that he couldn't take care of himself? That he needed Finn's help with? The giant didn't strike me as the kind to hide money from the IRS, which was one of Finn's specialties. But I was in too much pain to puzzle it out tonight.
Finn nodded and carried me toward the yellow crime scene tape. Xavier lifted up the flimsy barrier for him, and we left the bloody, frosty grass of the quad behind.
"It's okay, Gin," Finn whispered in my ear. "I'm taking you to Jo-Jo's. She'll heal you up, and then we can figure out what to do about Bria being in Ashland. You can relax now. Everything's going to be okay."
Even though it felt like my own bones were stabbing me, I turned my neck, looked over Finn's shoulder, and stared at Bria. She was still busy berating the security guard, so she didn't see my pained gaze. My eyes landed on the primrose rune she wore around her neck. The blue and red lights made the silverstone metal gleam like a small moon in the semidarkness.
I never thought I'd see that rune again-much less my baby sister. But seventeen years later, seventeen years after the brutal, fiery murder of our mother and older sister, Bria was back in my life. The tightness in my chest swelled up again, stronger, colder, and harder than before.
The delicate primrose was the last thing I remembered seeing before the world went black.
Chapter Three
I felt like I was on fire-from the inside out.
Hot needles stabbed up and down my body in a slow, relentless, agonizing path. My raw face, my broken jaw, my cracked ribs. The needles swept over everything, like I was some sort of warped voodoo doll come to life. The hot tingles made everything hurt even worse than it had before.
I whimpered and thrashed, trying to get away from the horrible, burning sensation.
"Hold her still, Sophia," a voice commanded. "Or her nose is going to look like something from a Halloween shop. You too, Finn."
A pair of iron hands tightened around my shoulders, immobilizing me. A larger but lighter set of hands clamped around my ankles.
"Hmph," someone grunted.
For some reason, it sounded like she was saying go ahead.
The burning continued a moment longer, then abruptly ceased. The sour stench of my own sweat filled my nose, and I panted with relief. A gentle hand smoothed back my damp, bloody hair, then cupped my cheek.
"Go to sleep now, darling." This time the voice was low, warm, sweet, soothing. "Just sleep, Gin."
So I did.
The next time I woke up, I was stretched out in an oversize salon chair that had been laid back like a recliner. Much better than lying on the cold grass of the college quad-or on a steel slab at the morgue.