My fingers tighten on her chin, and I fight the urge to bend her over my knee right here, right now, like she fucking deserves. Verging on death or not. “You’re selfish and you give no regard for anyone else’s feelings,” I accuse, staring down at her. She collapses against the pillows, eyeing the thick bandages encasing her arms. “Are you real?” Brooklyn asks me. My stomach bottoms out. “Of course, I’m real.” I cup her cheek so that she can feel me, and she automatically leans into my touch. I’m beyond terrified, more than I’ve ever felt in my life as I stare at her numb, confused gaze. What
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