Chapter 4
I stared at the trash can.
That was my lifeline.
It was the only thing that kept me going these last few days.
Without those pills, I'd be dead from the pain.
"Pick... pick it up..." I stammered.
I panicked and lunged for the trash can, frantically trying to dig through it.
My mind was scrambled, making me look as if I were hiding something.
Kyle grabbed me by my collar and yanked me up.
"Pick what up? Do you deserve to have these?" he sneered.
His voice drew a crowd.
"I'm warning you. Even if you're my rejected mate, don't go around parading as the Connor Pack's ex-Luna. It's disgusting," he spat.
He let go, and I hit the floor hard.
My head slammed against the hard tile floor again.
Bang!
It felt like something exploded inside my head.
The pain crashed over me, way worse than anything I'd felt, like it was trying to tear me apart.
I curled up on the floor, clutching my head so hard that my nails dug into my scalp. I screamed in agony.
"It hurts. It hurts like hell," I cried out.
This wasn't an act.
The pain was real, so real that I wanted to smash my head against the floor to make it stop.
Kyle looked down at me, his eyes icy and dripping with contempt.
"Putting on a show again? Lila, with those acting skills, you could win an Oscar," he sneered.
He kicked my foot. "Stop playing dead. Get up."
I couldn't make out what he was saying.
All I could hear was a piercing buzz, and everything went red before my eyes.
Blood started gushing from my nose again, this time completely out of control, like a dam burst. It instantly stained my shirt and pooled on the floor.
Gasps erupted around me.
"Blood. So much blood!" someone shouted.
"What's wrong with her?" another voice asked.
Kyle's expression finally shifted.
He stared at the shocking pool of blood, his pupils narrowing, frozen in place.
"Lila?" He crouched down, reaching out to touch me.
But before he could, someone beat him to it, lifting me with clean, gentle hands.
It was Tristan.
He was wearing the healer's white coat, his face tight with worry and anger as he shoved Kyle out of the way.
"Get out of the way," Tristan snapped.
Kyle stumbled back, staring at Tristan in disbelief, then at me, bloody and cradled in Tristan's arms.
"Who are you?" Kyle asked, his voice oddly shaky.
Tristan didn't spare him a glance. He scooped me up and bolted for the emergency healing ward.
As I leaned against Tristan, I cast one last glance at Kyle.
He stood there, hand suspended in the air, as if he were about to reach for me.
For the first time, his cocky face was overtaken by panic.
This time, I was really going to die.
I wondered if Kyle would be happy.
The emergency healing ward's red light lit up.
In the hallway, Kyle stared at the blood on his hands.
It was thick and warm with that metallic scent.
As it dried, it crusted into dark red scabs in the lines of his palm.
"Kyle..." Sophia ran over, catching her breath. "That scared me to death.
"Who was that healer? Why did he grab Lila and run off? Are they, you know, together or something?"
Kyle snapped out of it, forcing down the panic in his eyes with a hard, deliberate effort.
Yeah, that was right.
That healer was Tristan.
Back in high school, I was the brightest girl at Senior Academy, and Tristan was the broke guy always trailing after me.
Then, I had become Luna Connor, and Tristan had become a healer.
Kyle thought Tristan and I were rekindling an old flame.
"Wipe your hands," Sophia said, handing him a wet wipe, her eyes darting. "The blood Lila lost looked weird. It's too red. Special effects makeup is crazy realistic now."
Kyle paused. "You're saying it was fake?"
"I'm not sure," Sophia said, biting her lip and looking all innocent. "But who bleeds that much from a nosebleed?
"She was rummaging through the trash can a second ago. How did she suddenly collapse?"
Kyle's nerves finally relaxed.
Yeah, she had a point.
In Kyle's eyes, I was the kind of woman who would sell her dignity for money, pulling a stunt like that was her usual trick.
That split second of panic was a freaking joke to him.
"Look into it," Kyle said, tossing the dirty wipe into the trash, his voice cold again. "Figure out what she and Tristan are scheming.
"If I catch her pretending to be sick to scam for cash, she'll be out of Connor Pack territory for good."
Inside the emergency healing ward, I woke up.
The harsh overhead light stabbed at my eyes, making them water.
"You're awake?" Tristan's eyes were bloodshot as he held a syringe. "Your intracranial pressure was way too high. I gave you a shot of mannitol. Lila, you can't keep ignoring this."
I slowly turned my head and spotted blood smeared on his lab coat.
It was my blood.
"Tristan, do me a favor," I said weakly.
Each word felt like it was stuck in my throat, my tongue barely working. "Lock up... my medical records. Make them... private."
"Why?" Tristan exploded. "You're dying, and you still care if he finds out?
"Let him know you're like this because you saved him. Let him know you're dying. Wouldn't it be better to make him regret it for the rest of his life?"
"No," I said.
I stared up at the ceiling, little black specks swirling in my vision.
"Letting him feel guilty is letting him off too easy," I muttered.
I let out a bitter, empty laugh. "I want him to believe I'm some vain, greedy woman who abandoned her mate and child. When I'm dead, and the truth finally comes out...
"That slow, dull pain, the kind that cuts him up, bit by bit, is the worst kind of suffering."