The car ride to the hospital was tense and suffocatingly quiet.
Brandon sat rigid in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the city blurred past in streaks of gray and red. His jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle twitched along his cheek.
He hadn't spoken since they left the loft.
He hadn't even looked at her.
Babydoll gripped the steering wheel harder than necessary, her knuckles whitening against the leather.
It was as if she wasn't even there.
His mind had already left the car, left the street, left the city entirely. He was somewhere else, walking down sterile white hospital corridors, pushing through swinging doors, standing at Lyse's bedside.
Babydoll was nothing more than transportation.
The chauffeur.
The necessary evil that got him from one place to another.
The night at the club, the music, the dancing, the heat between them, the tangled sheets and whispered questions… it all felt like a hallucination now.
