Chapter 9: What Dad Signed

"Lily walks out with us," Damien said. "Now."

"Of course," Rourke said. "She was never a prisoner."

"You had her in a car."

"I had her in a warm room with coffee. Ask her."

Lily said nothing.

I took her hand and pulled her up from the chair.

Her fingers were ice.

Nobody stopped us.

That was the worst part.

Rourke let us walk to the door like he'd already collected what he came for.

"Ms. Sinclair," he called.

I turned.

"Do give your father my regards. He's been so hard to reach."

Marcus drove us to St. Brennan's.

Lily needed a room, and I needed one person in the world I could trust to put a blood pressure cuff on her.

A nurse I'd trained took her in without asking questions.

I stood in the hallway and watched the door close.

Then I took out my phone and called my father.

He picked up on the second ring.

"Ava, baby."

"Come to the hospital. Third floor. Right now."

"I'm in the middle of something."

"Lily was taken today. Rourke had her."

A long breath on the line.

"Is she hurt?"

"Come."

He came in forty minutes.

I was at the nurses' station when the elevator opened.

He walked down the corridor in his wrong-buttoned coat, a little unsteady, past two orderlies and a woman with an IV pole.

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