The Broken Pieces of Us (The Devil's Dust #2.1)

“Why?” I ask.

“Babs came in last night,” she pauses. “She is in a coma. They tried to call Locks, but they never got through,” she continues softly.

A sudden gasp falls from my slack face, tears filling my eyes. Did she say a fucking coma?

I don’t even text Locks. I just get on my bike and break every fucking speed limit on the way to the hospital.

I pull a Shadow and park in the no parking zone, running to the front desk.

“Is Delilah Gia here? What room is she in?” My voice yelling in hysteria.

“Bull,” Doc says my name, coming out of a patient’s room. “It’s all right, I got him,” Doc informs the receptionist, who looks frightened.

Doc starts walking toward the elevator, me following close behind her till we enter the abandoned cart.

“What happened?” I ask, my hands on the back of my neck as we make our way upward.

“From the report I read, she was hit by a car,” she explains, her eyes widening.

“A fucking car?” I question in shock, making sure I heard her right.

“Yup, they didn’t even stop. Some people passing by found her.”

The doors open and she walks out, the smell of sterilizers and cleaning products greeting us. I hate that fucking smell; it always makes me sick to my stomach.

She stops short of a white door and looks at me.

“Brace yourself, Bull. I know Babs is tough, but you need to prepare yourself for the worst outcome,” she says ruthlessly.

I close my eyes and nod, pushing open the closed door.

Babs has some kind of shit taped to her mouth and a machine beeping every pump of her heart. Her face is lax, swollen, and red. She looks like death is knocking on her door. I quickly turn my head away from her, a sob escaping my mouth. Looking at the woman I love, so weak and fragile, it kills me.

“Give it to me straight, Doc, no bullshit,” I demand, my voice cracking with emotion.

“I can’t really say, Bull. I have seen people in worse shape pull through, and I have seen people perfectly healthy pass. Most of the damage was done to her head, and the brain is very tricky in trying to comprehend its next move. All we can do is wait,” she explains, walking up to Babs and brushing her red hair from her face.

“All we can do is try and make her as comfortable as we can,” she mutters.

“Don’t!” I bark. That fucking sentence, that bullshit they tell family or friends when they want them to have hope but medically the odds aren’t in the patients favor, is not happening here.

She looks at me and nods before patting my back gently.

“I gotta get back on my floor; let me know if you need anything,” she adds softly before leaving. I need to call the boys, figure out who fucking did this, where this fucking happened. But I can’t take my eyes away from her, the urge to climb in that bed and hold her over taking me.



I hear voices, but I can’t see who they are coming from, can’t comprehend who is speaking. I can’t open my eyes. I can’t sit up. I can’t do anything.

I can hear myself talking, but my mouth isn’t moving and nobody is answering me back.

I feel like I’m falling in nothing but darkness, like I’m on a roller coaster in the middle of the night. I’m at the peak of a hill, free falling all the way to the bottom fast. My body feeling weightless as I’m whipped back into nothing.

“Don’t you leave me, babe.” Echoes through my never ending fall, but I can’t understand it.

I briefly feel the falling stop, only to crash back downward into still blackness. It’s nothing but weightless free falling to the bottom of Hell. Hopefully, Hell isn’t a bottomless pit.



I’m at the club, fondling a full bottle of jack, sitting on my bed. I can’t open my eyes; everywhere I look I see Babs. I look back down at the bottle of Jack. I have to be strong. I can’t waste away at the bottom of booze, no matter how much I want to. I’m not sure if Locks will be there for Babs. He seems to have lost himself. Babs needs me; I’m all she has. I grab the neck of the bottle and leave my room. Searching for fucking answers is the top of my priorities.

As soon as I walk out from the hall, I see Dani and Shadow entering the club. I am glad they figured their shit out. Shadow is more complicated than a female sometimes. I go straight to the chapel, the boys following me in.

“So, we don’t know who hit her?” Shadow questions Locks across the table. I push the bottle of booze away from me and look at Locks, waiting. When I left the hospital, I saw him speaking to the police. I’m curious when he decided to call the hospital back, wondering what information he has that I don’t. They wouldn’t tell me much, me not being her husband.

Locks hesitates. “I don’t know, probably just some drunk not paying attention,” he responds coolly. My hands steeple, trying to keep from throttling Locks with his vague behavior. His emotions are so in check, so collected, as if nothing has happened.