Unlucky Like Us (Like Us Series: Billionaires & Bodyguards Book 12) by Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie

Author:Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie [Ritchie, Krista & Ritchie, Becca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: K.B. Ritchie
Published: 2023-07-20T18:30:00+00:00

PART TWO

“While you slept, the world changed.”

- Xavier, House of X #6

24

LUNA HALE

Sterile lights beam down on me in hot waves, and I imagine this is it. I’m on a spaceship. Taken away by an intergalactic species to be experimented on or be crowned queen. A hammer swings against my head, thumping and thumping. My bones feel like seven-tons of bricks. Are there bricks on this planet?

Have I turned to stone?

Am I still even on Earth? I’m sinking…or I’m too drained to move.

I squint harder and try to distinguish shapes, but everything is just fuzzy.

Maybe I’m dreaming. One of those half-awake kind of dreams that’s sleepy and fogged. They’re not my favorite. I like the vivid tapestries of my imagination to overtake my subconscious. Not this cloudy, murky distorted confusion.

In a concerted effort, I fight to wake from this blurry no-good dream. I blink more and concentrate on the harsh lights. My surroundings gradually sharpen into a clearer picture, but the throbbing in my skull doesn’t recede.

My stomach lurches as I take in the beige drapes and ugly matching chair pushed under the window. A TV on the wall plays a rerun of Gilmore Girls on mute. Closest to me, a heart monitor beeps, and cords are attached to me, plugged into hefty machines and IV bags.

What…

Beeping quickens on the machine, and my heart tries to jettison from my body.

This is a hospital room.

I’m in a hospital room.

I’m stuck on the one thought, mentally stepping into superglue. My mouth is so dry, tongue thick and strange. I lick my chapped lips.

“Hey…” Someone speaks gently.

I follow the sound of the soft, soothing voice to the darkened corner of the room. Sitting on a cushioned chair, the man slowly stands and approaches the hospital bed. I squint harder, piecing together his features.

A hoop piercing in his lip, barbells in his brow, a black dangly earring—I think I know him. The tattooed skull and crossbones on the tops of his hands seem familiar, as do the inked swords on his throat and wings on his neck.

Why is his hair brown? “You…dyed your hair,” I croak, my throat raw. Words come out coarse. Is that his natural hair color? Have I seen it before? I swallow, and I skim his black V-neck, black pants. He often wears the same thing, and this familiarity tries to ease me.

I do recognize him.

Farrow. Farrow.

The name washes over me with not enough tranquility. I’m too confused to relax, and I feel like I’ve been in a head-on collision with the Millennium Falcon. My whole body hurts.

He’s filling a plastic cup of water and studying the machines and me. “How are you feeling?”

I can’t even wrap my brain around how to answer. I blink a few more times, hoping to clear more fog. “What…happened?” I rasp and look around for my mom and dad. My brothers and sister. If something bad happened to me, they’d be here, right? Unless…unless…

Dread heavies my stomach.

If they’re not here, it means something bad happened to them.

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