Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
I wasn’t losing her. I couldn’t lose her. If I lost her, this club could kiss my ass goodbye. Because I’d either die getting revenge on my wife, or I’d go to prison for the rest of my life for it.
And I wouldn’t give two fucking shits.
I glanced out of the corner of my eye when the emergency room doors slid open, Geek and Trigger walking through. I didn’t move—just watched them as they scanned the room before locking their eyes on me. I sat up straighter in my seat as they made their way over to the chair I was sitting in.
I didn’t really want company, but I knew my brothers wouldn’t hear that shit. They would only let it go in one ear and out the other and do whatever the hell they wanted despite my wishes. If there was one thing we didn’t do in this club, we didn’t allow brothers to suffer in silence by themselves.
Sure, they let me have my space, but they wouldn’t leave me alone. And though I wanted to be alone, I was also thankful for their presence. It would keep me from completely self-destructing.
I was just honestly surprised it took them this long to come here. Guess cops held them up longer than I thought they would.
“Any news?” Geek quietly asked, taking a seat beside me.
I shook my head. “No news yet. All I know is that she’s in surgery, and they’re doing everything they can for her.”
And fuck, that was like a punch to my gut. I prided myself on being able to protect everyone attached to the club, and yet, I hadn’t protected Aaliyah. She got shot on my grounds by my fucking wife.
Someone I should have been able to easily protect her from, I couldn’t. It made me sick to my stomach every time I thought about it.
Guilt rode hard on my shoulders.
There was no telling what damage she would be left with if she survived this. The surgeon had promised me that he would do everything he could to help her, but he couldn’t make any promises. There was too much blood, and the bullet ripped through her stomach—ripped right through her fucking organ.
She would have a hard time recovering. I knew that much. But I’d be there every step of the way, even if she didn’t want me to be. I had to. Not only because I was responsible for what the fuck happened, but also because Aaliyah was it for me. She was mine.
My Red.
“Doc know what was hit?” Trigger asked me.
I scratched at the stubble on my jaw, hating the scratchy feel. I hadn’t shaved this morning after the shit with Wendy went down, and the stubble was irritating the fuck out of my skin. Normally, I was clean-shaved.
“Ripped through her stomach.”
He winced, and I had to bite back a scowl. The fuck was he wincing for? He wasn’t the one that had gotten shot. “Fuck,” he whispered.
I nodded in agreement, biting back my irritation. We all knew how much gunshot wounds hurt. They were a bitch to deal with and recover from. But none of us had taken one to the gut. So, we could only imagine how she would feel when she woke up.
And I knew it wouldn’t be pleasant. She was going to be in a shit ton of pain.
I leaned forward and braced my elbows on my knees, lacing my fingers together in front of me. “She was trying to protect me.” A bitter laugh spilled from my lips, and I shook my head in frustration at her, me—this entire fucking situation. Rage pulsed through my veins, spreading like lava from a volcanic eruption. Despite knowing that Wendy was going to suffer in prison, which was the best punishment possible for her, I still wanted to put a bullet through her skull. “She was worried about me getting hurt, and she took that fucking bullet because of it.”
Trigger clapped a hand to my shoulder. “Try not to think about it too much. Guilt can turn some of the best men into train wrecks, and you need a strong head on your shoulders, Prez. Let’s just wait until she wakes up and go from there, yeah?”
I blew out a harsh breath and nodded my head. “Yeah, I hear you,” I muttered.
But that shit was easier said than done.
I was already turning into a damn train wreck. I just hadn’t let them see it yet.
A surgeon dressed in ugly, pale green scrubs stepped out of the back. “Aaliyah Fields,” he called, following hospital protocol. He knew us well, and he was always our go-to surgeon. The man has even flown back from vacation once to operate on Blayke.
I quickly stood to my feet and made my way to him. Trigger and Geek stayed seated, letting me talk to the doctor in private, which I was thankful for. They hadn’t given me a moment of peace since they’d gotten there, though I knew they were only being annoying solely to keep me out of my head, which had worked. The surgeon gestured for me to follow him, and eventually, we stepped into a consultation room. He shut the door before taking a seat at the table, gesturing for me to do the same.