Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Madden's phone rings at the same time, piercing through the room. He curses under his breath, yanking it from his pocket. Whatever he sees on the screen has him answering with a furrow between his brows instead of silencing it.
"What?" he says.
Someone behind me asks the same question.
"Lyle Taggert shot someone. It's all over social media."
I'm watching Madden's face as the girl behind me answers. I see what no one else does—the split second of horror that flashes in his eyes before he's able to school it. And I know without even asking that Lyle didn't shoot someone.
He shot Zion.
The world goes dark, even ounce of light and warmth sucked out of it at once. I stumble, a broken cry tumbling from my lips as the ground rushes up to meet me.
"Move out of the fucking way," Madden growls, whipping around cars on the interstate as he rushes toward the hospital, trying to get me to Zion. I'm in the backseat with Olive, her hand clutched in mine so tightly I know it has to hurt.
I can't let her go, though. She's the only thing keeping me from falling to pieces right now. Zion's been shot, and I can't think. I can't breathe. All I see is the scars littering his body. All I hear are his words echoing in my mind.
That's the bullet that should have killed me. Instead, it took most of my hearing.
He survived once when he shouldn't have. What if…what if…
That question battles in my mind in an endless litany. What if he doesn't this time? What if Lyle killed him? What if I never see his face again or feel his arms around me? What if my life ended in a mansion, surrounded by people who think the worst of me?
If he's gone, that's precisely when it happened. The moment I lost him.
There is no future for me without him in it. At least not one I want.
I realize right then and there, that I'm nothing like my mother, willing to sacrifice everything for any man who will have me. I'm not. But I'd give up every inch of my soul for one singular man, the only one capable of owning any part of me. It's impossible for me to be like her when there's nothing in this world I want more than his arms around me, his voice at my ear.
This isn't temporary or easily replaced. This is forever.
If he's gone…
"Please," I pray, tears leaking down my cheeks. "Please, God."
Olive sobs quietly beside me.
Madden blows through a yellow light outside the entrance to the hospital, taking the turn at breakneck speed. He drives right up to the doors at the ER.
I don't even wait for him to come to a complete stop before I'm jumping out. I rush inside with Olive right behind me, my heart in my throat.
"Zion Carmichael," I say, my voice shaking. "I n-need to see Zion Carmichael."
The receptionist—a middle aged woman with burnished copper hair, looks at me over the rim of her glasses. "You need to sign in."
"I need to see Zion."
Someone steps up beside me, casting a shadow over the desk. "Take her back," he growls, his voice so familiar it's eerie. I look up at him and know immediately that he's one of Zion's brothers. They look too much alike not to be related.
"Gideon?"
"Zayne," he says, his expression softening as he looks me over. "You're Kenzie?"
I nod, tears still spilling down my cheeks. I can't stop them. "Is…is he…?"
"Alive," Zayne says. "Though, fair warnin', I may kill him later."
The receptionist recoils.
"He's my little brother. I'm allowed," Zayne growls at her. "Let Kenzie back before he rips your entire ER apart."
"He's awake?"
Zayne nods. "Awake and mad as hell." His jaw tightens. "Taggert's right across the hall from him. Some genius thought bringing him here was a good idea."
The icicles growing in my veins begin to thaw, allowing me to draw a breath. Zion's alive. He's safe.
I won't believe it until I see him for myself.
"Go on back then," the receptionist mutters, clearly annoyed that we're not following her rules. The door to the back buzzes before slowly opening.
I glance at Olive.
"Go!" she cries.
I don't stop to ask directions. I run. I don't need the directions anyway. Between the police officers stationed outside his door and his booming voice, I have a roadmap leading right to him.
"I swear to Christ, if you don't get back in this bed right this instant, Zion Alaric Carmichael, I'm telling your father you growled at me."
"I don't need to be in the fucking bed, Ma. I want out of here."
"Don't curse at me."
I follow their voices, stumbling to a stop at the door to a trauma room. Zion's standing beside the bed without a shirt, weaving on his feet. Bandages cover his left shoulder, streaking with blood. His mom's across from him, her hands planted on her hips as she glares at him. His other brother—Gideon—is sitting in a chair off to the side, watching the show.