Windsor's POV
"What are you doing here?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
Even with the hospital's air conditioning running full blast, heat coursed through my entire body.
Zion held up a basket of fresh fruit, his expression unreadable. "Checking on my faction members," he said, stepping into the room like he owned the place. His dark eyes shifted to Arnold. "How are you holding up?"
Arnold's face lit up with that trademark grin that usually spelled trouble. "Never been better. Heard those jerks are covering all my medical bills. Thanks for that, by the way. Haven't had the chance to say it properly."
"Don't mention it," Zion replied, setting the basket down on the side table.
"Though," Arnold continued, and I could practically see the mischief dancing in his eyes, "I think you should be more concerned about how Windsor's doing right about now."
I wanted to strangle him with the IV tubing.
