Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“You’re here,” she exclaimed, sounding utterly exhausted.
I stretched my mouth into what I hoped was a smile. “It takes a lot more than a deranged serial killer to get me down,” I joked weakly.
The world tilted, so I grabbed onto Colby’s arm. He held me upright.
I kept my focus on Violet. “Now, please don’t embarrass the cause by bitching out at this moment. Let’s have this baby.”
There it was. My pep talk, such as it was.
And it might’ve been the last thing I uttered in this world.
Which was fine.
It might’ve been poetic and all, Violet bringing pure, innocent life into this world and me leaving it, stained and ruined.
The sound of a baby screaming had me sagging against Colby in relief.
Then I felt really fucking cold.
Then I didn’t feel much at all. Which was great.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
COLBY
Sariah wouldn’t wake up.
She was there, shouting at Violet one minute, then she was just gone. I literally felt the life drain out of her.
She went cold, limp, and her skin turned gray.
I gathered her into my arms, and we were speeding to the hospital in record time. Time she didn’t have.
“Hold on, poppet,” I murmured, clutching her close and kissing her head. She didn’t respond. Her chest was moving, but barely. What little breath she had was coming out in horrid, wet, rough croaks.
The death rattle.
I’d heard it before.
Knew that it meant the reaper was coming for what was due.
“You can’t have her,” I rasped as the van screeched into the parking lot of the hospital. “You can’t have her,” I repeated, holding a dead woman in my arms. The woman I loved.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been in a situation like this. I knew the weight of it. That awful weight. I understood the smell, the feel, everything.
“No!” I roared. “No!”
“Brother,” Hansen called from somewhere.
I shook my head to clear the cobwebs from my brain.
Nurses and doctors were staring at me in terror. Or more accurately, at the arm not holding Sariah. It was holding my piece. Pointed at them.
“You need to hand her over,” Hansen said calmly.
Then Hades was there. Had he been in the van the entire time? His hands were prying mine from Sariah, letting the doctors and nurses transfer her to a gurney.
My world was swaying, fragmenting. I was living half here and half in the past. In another lifetime.
“Give me the gun, you go to your girl,” Hades said.
He was in focus again. Hansen was gone. As was the gurney Sariah had been on just moments ago. Had I fucking blacked out?
“Gun,” Hades repeated.
I all but tossed him the gun, sprinting to catch the doctors who were trying to save Sariah’s life.
But I’d felt it leave her already.
She was gone.
SARIAH
I remembered Violet screaming.
And a baby being born.
Then the rest rushed in.
Knives. Agony. Blood. His creepy smile as his hands had touched my insides. My screams echoing off the cold, concrete walls.
I tried my best to push all of that aside, to instead focus on the knowledge that my best friend was now a mother.
But the pain, the blood, the rattle of the chains all rushed forward, demanding to be acknowledged.
Though I was on drugs—a lot of them, my mouth dry and full, my body seemed much lighter than it was, and there was no physical pain—I wasn’t given the numbness of mind. I wasn’t blessed with the initial confusion I saw on the movies when patients woke up … the whole, “where am I?”, “what happened?” kind of thing.
I knew exactly what happened. I’d been very aware that I’d been dying. And I’d been doing it quietly. Not because I wanted to die exactly, but because I didn’t want Willow’s birth to be further tarnished by the monster who did this.
I gritted my teeth through it.
And then, when I heard a baby screaming its lungs out, I kind of collapsed.
The rest of the details were fuzzy.
There were a lot of urgent yells from Colby. There were doctors. Beeping.
Then there was nothing at all.
Until waking in the hospital bed.
My vision was foggy, and my throat felt swollen. A hazy memory of waking some time before with something in my throat came to me.
Intubated.
So yeah, it must have been bad.
Though it took great effort, I continued blinking the grit out of my eyes, if only so I could stop seeing the nightmares working behind my lids.
Except they weren’t nightmares.
They were memories.
My extremities were numb, but there was a constant pressure on my left hand.
He was blurry at first, but I knew who he was before I’d even regained my sight.
Colby.
Sitting at my bedside, clasping my hand, head bent downward.
He was holding himself rigid. Like if I tapped him with my finger, he’d shatter. I could practically see the tension rolling off his body.
“I’m guessing this isn’t heaven, the thread count of the sheets would be better,” I joked with a rasp.