I feel it lodged into my back and the thought of getting someone to fish it out is making me feel fucking sick. Where am I even going to find someone in this fucked-up town who will be willing to help me? I’m the fucking enemy here. If any of the rich bastards around here catch me running through the streets with a gunshot wound, they’re going to assume I was either trying to steal something or I was just caught screwing someone’s daughter.
I start trying to peel myself out of the grass while the sounds of Skylah’s cries tear me apart. I need to let her know that I’ll be alright. I need to get to her.
I get my arm under me while trying to keep as still as possible. Each slight movement is agonizing. I’ve never felt so fucking pathetic. I’ve always prided myself on being strong, never giving up, and never backing down in the face of a fight, but the second that gun appeared at the back of Skylah’s head, I knew I’d do anything to save her, even if it meant laying down my life.
Getting on my knees before Lucien Valentine was fucking humiliating but I’d do it again.
She thinks I’m dead.
God, that hurts. She must be in her own version of hell right now. All I want to do is run up there and throw my arms around her. I only saw her three fucking minutes ago and yet I’ve never missed her more. I’d give anything to hold her one more time, tell her I love her and make sure she fights this. She needs to get out. I won’t accept her submitting to him and becoming his pawn. I know she’s stronger than that but now that she thinks I’m gone…fuck, I don’t know what’s going to happen.
I fight with everything I have just to get to my feet. My hand clutches onto my left shoulder, trying to keep it still and as I start fumbling through the grass to get to the house and get my girl, two guards come at me.
I put up a fight but I’ve got nothing left and my attempts are pathetic. They drag me out and as I go to scream out Skylah’s name, a fist is pummeled into my jaw to shut me up.
I have no choice. I have to leave her. At least for now. I will be back and I will be taking her home. If I were to stay and fight this, I don’t doubt that Lucien will come out here and finish me off, just as he promised and what good would I be then?
It’s the smart, rational option and as much as I hate it, I have no choice. In order to save her, I have to leave her.
The thought makes me sick and as these bastards drag me back toward the front gates, I stare back at the mansion, wondering if she can see me from the windows, but I doubt it. She’s locked up in her ivory tower like some kind of princess, dying to be freed.
With each step they drag me, I feel further and further away from her. I’ve failed her again…I’ve been failing her since the very first day she showed up in Aston Creek. She deserves so much better than this, better than me. She’s a fucking angel and I’m nothing, but right now, I’m all she’s got and she needs me more than ever.
I will not fail her again.
I’m thrown through the gates, landing on my chest and desperately trying to protect myself from the pain that follows. My eyes clench as my jaw tightens so hard that I fear I could crack my own damn teeth. Despite how bad it hurts, nothing hurts more than knowing my girl thinks I’m dead.
The guards walk away with a scoff and it’s as though they think escorting me out of here was below their paygrade. I groan as I raise my head from the polished drive and am thankful my truck is still here. I grab hold of the fender and use it to haul myself up, feeling slightly smug about the pool of blood I’m leaving behind. Then just out of spite, I mess it the fuck up, spreading that shit around and making it a nightmare for the fucker who gets tasked with cleaning it up.
Digging into my pocket, I grab my keys and reluctantly get into my truck. I can’t take my eyes off the property. The second I drive away, I’ll be officially leaving her behind and it doesn’t sit well with me. I fucking hate it.
Fuck, just the thought of what he could be doing to her right now haunts me.
She’s in there hurting…
Not having the strength to leave her just yet, I find my phone and hit Blake’s number. He answers on the first ring, probably sitting by his phone all afternoon, waiting for my call. “Did you get her? Where is she? Put her on.”