Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 130761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
“Rider!” I shouted and dropped down beside Phebe. She was a fucking mess, beaten, bruised and clearly raped, but her blue eyes were wild, fucking cut, when she met my gaze. “Sapphira!” she cried harder, almost unable to breathe.
I thought I’d seen pain before. I thought I’d seen the fucking terror of loss. But in that moment I realized I hadn’t seen shit. Phebe, my fucking Red, was dying along with her daughter. Fucking heart broken and bleeding out.
Rider came sprinting to Phebe. Our van came seconds later, Slash at the wheel. Grace was in the front of the cabin, her little hands on the glass, trying to see Phebe and Sapphira.
“I need her in the back,” Rider said. I picked Sapphira up in my arms.
Phebe reached forward, trying to get her back from me, fucking losing it more, second by second. “Get in the van, Red,” I ordered, trying to be quick. Phebe stumbled to her feet. I laid Sapphira on the floor, and Rider got to work. He split her dress, and I watched as he rubbed his hand down his face, seeing the wound. It was bad. It was fucking bad.
I could tell by his reaction.
“We need to go, now,” he said and got the fuck to work.
I lifted Phebe in beside Sapphira. She fell to her knees at her daughter’s side. She held her hand and rocked back and forth.
Phebe was already emotionally too far gone.
Red was fucking mentally tapping out.
I turned and saw my brothers getting back on their bikes. Then I saw Ash, standing on his own, staring at his fucking hands. I sprinted over to him. “Ash,” I said, and he looked up. The kid hadn’t even seen the commotion, too fucking busy freaking out about his kill. “You good?” He numbly nodded his head.
“I need you to ride my bike back to Austin.” Ash nodded again. “Ash?” I pushed, and Flame appeared behind him. Ash looked at his older brother and swallowed.
Flame’s hand clenched at his side, then clenched again. “I got him,” he said, then awkwardly as fuck, put his hand on Ash’s shoulder and squeezed. I saw the fucking tears build in Ash’s eyes at the fact Flame was touching him. At the fact he’d killed.
Flame was fucking touching him.
I gave my keys to Flame, then turned and ran back to the van. I slammed the doors shut and sat beside Phebe. I pulled my bitch into my arms as Rider worked on Sapphira. As we moved out, Phebe looked up at me, her lifeless daughter on the floor before her, and I didn’t like what I fucking saw in her eyes. She was dead. Her eyes were fucking dead. The tears had stopped, she was numb, but her hand held tight to her daughter’s.
So I held on to her.
I just fucking held on.
*****
Phebe
“No,” a voice screamed from beside me. I blinked and then heard two shots. I turned, and Sapphira jerked before me. I was confused. I did not know what had happened . . . until she fell . . . she fell to the ground. I dropped beside her, then I saw it. Saw the blood pouring from her stomach. Saw her brown eyes watching me, silently begging me to save her.
“Sapphira.” Her eyes began to close. Panic gripped me as I the blood kept coming. I pulled her into my arms, trying to wake her up. “Sapphira!” I screamed, realizing she would not wake. I brought my hands to her face. She was getting cold . . . she was getting cold . . .
AK was carrying me out of the van, but I would not let go of Sapphira’s hand. I could not. She needed me. “I am her mother,” I said as we entered the clubhouse. But my hand fell from hers when AK pulled it away. “I am her mother,” I repeated numbly.
“She needs to go, Red. Rider needs to get the fucking bullet from her stomach.”
Cain and some of the men took her into a room. I let AK lead me to the room to wait at the doorway. But as I watched her hand fall to the side of the bed, her life draining from her veins, as I watched her face grow paler, and as I watched Cain try . . . try but fail to save my girl, I knew it was too late.
She was gone. I felt it within me. She had gone. My daughter . . . she had died. I did not save her. When the time came, I had failed . . . I tried, but like everything else, I could not save her . . . when it mattered most . . .
. . . I failed.
I was going to lose her when I had just gotten her back. When she had just called me “Mother”. When we had our chance at a better life.