Chapter 145
The others are halfway up the stairs now, their voices echoing in the stairwell. Knox is being carried between two men. Mud is still beside me, looking like he’s about to hurry me along, but I step away from him before he can speak.
I walk toward Mateo instead.
He sees me coming.
His eyes follow me, tracking my movement with the sluggish awareness of someone barely conscious. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, leaving a crimson trail across his cheek. He tries to speak. His lips move soundlessly at first, then manage to croak out words.
“You… can’t… be… happy,” he whispers, each word a struggle.
My fingers tighten around the grip of the gun.
“Well, it’s a good thing you won’t be here to see me sad,” I say.
And I pull the trigger.
The bullet hits him right between the eyes. That’s for almost killing the love of my life, you bastard.
Jade was right about one thing, at least. It’s messy.
But it’s done.
I know I’m not thinking straight. Hell, I’ll probably lose my mind over this later, but right now? Go to hell, Mateo.
I drop the gun. The men cleaning up the place will find a way to dispose of it. Then I turn and run. Up the stairs and outside.
By the time I reach the top, Knox is already being lowered into the backseat of his car, positioned face down to keep pressure off the shrapnel in his
back.
I don’t hesitate. I slip into the car beside him, dropping into the seat and pulling his head onto my lap. My tears fall fast. They drop on his temple and soak his hair as I stroke it, trying to offer whatever comfort I can.
“Drive!” I yell to Mud, who’s brushing shards of glass off the front seat. Shards from the window I shot.
Mud jumps behind the wheel, sitting on the rest of the glass pieces. He slams the door shut.
Hunter comes running toward us and gets into the passenger seat just before we take off. I don’t look back to see if the others make it into their car. I can’t look away from Knox.
“Is he okay?” Hunter asks, twisting around in his seat to look at us.
I’m too busy whispering to Knox, brushing the hair from his forehead with trembling fingers, to reply at first.
“He better be okay,” I whisper eventually. “You hear me? You better be okay. Don’t you dare fall asleep. Don’t die on me, Knox.”
There’s nothing but that shallow, irregular breathing.
“How fast can this thing go?” I yell. “Where’s the nearest hospital?”
Mud glances at me in the rearview mirror. “We have a doctor. Not a hospital. Somewhere in the city.”
“How far?”
“A few minutes.”
“Can’t we just use a normal hospital? This is serious. He needs-”
He doesn’t even look back this time. “And go to jail for the rest of our lives?”
Right. Of course. Gunshot wounds require police reports. Police reports lead to investigations. Investigations lead to prison cells and life sentences for everyone involved.
I swallow my next question and stare out the window, willing my heart to stay inside my chest where it belongs. My breathing’s ragged, coming in short gasps that make me dizzy. My head’s spinning like I’m on a carnival ride I can’t get off. I’m either about to faint or scream or both.
“…Sloane,” Knox says.
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9:18 AM
Chapter 145
I whip my head down. “I’m here. I’m here, baby.”
He groans, a sound that manages to be both painful and reassuring.
“What did you do to my car?” he mumbles, and I can hear the faint trace of amusement even through the pain.
The question knocks the wind out of me and then makes me laugh through the tears.
“I shot the window,” I say.
“You… what?”
“I thought you were getting ambushed. I had to come save you.”
“Right. The big savior,” he breathes, and his lips twitch in the closest thing to a smile I’ve seen on him since this nightmare started.
I run my hand through his hair. “Just keep talking to me, okay? Just talk. Stay awake. Stay alive.”
“I’ll stay alive if you promise we’ll have ten kids.”
“Ten kids? Are you seriously blackmailing me right now?”
DO
you want me to die?” he asks, like it’s a legitimate threat he’s prepared to carry out.
“Jesus, Knox. Don’t joke about that.”
He tries to laugh–actually laugh–but it comes out as a grunt of pain that makes my stomach turn and my heart clench with worry.
“Fine,” I say, trying to keep my voice light and steady. “One kid.”
“Ten.”
“Two. That’s my final offer.”
“Ten.”
“Fuck off.”
The silence that follows is different from before. I panic.
“Knox? Knox!”
But he’s out.
I don’t remember what happens next exactly. The details blur together. Just that I start screaming at Mud, at Hunter, at Knox himself. My voice is hoarse, useless, but I can’t stop. My hands are still in his hair, fingers tangled in the dark strands. I can’t let go. I won’t let go.
In the mirror, I see Mud glance back at me, his eyes wide and wary. Like I’m the grenade now, ready to explode at any moment.
We pull up somewhere minutes later. The car screeches to a halt in front of a building that makes me blink in confusion.
A veterinary clinic?
I stare at the sign, trying to process what I’m seeing. “What the fuck?” I whisper.
Mud’s already out of the car. Hunter too. The doors swing open, and people come running out–men in scrubs carrying a stretcher that looks like it was designed for something much smaller than a full–grown man.
I don’t want to let go. Not when they reach in for him with careful hands. Not when they start lifting his body off my lap.
If Mud says this is where they go for treatment, then I have to trust him. What other choice do I have?
They carry Knox inside, the stretcher sagging under his weight but holding. Down the hallway in the clinic, they go through a set of glass doors that swing shut behind them.
And I run after them–because I need to be where he is, because I can’t bear to be separated from him now.
But someone stops me.
“Ma’am, you can’t go in there,” a woman in blood–stained scrubs says, stepping into my path and blocking the door with her body. “Please just wait at reception.”
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Chapter 145
“Knox!” I scream, trying to push past her. “Let me through!”
But Hunter pulls me back from behind.
“Just be calm,” he says into my car. “Knox is a survivor. He’s going to pull through this. And then you can give him those ten kids he wants.”
I laugh despite my mood. “Two was my final offer.”
“Great. You can argue about it when he comes out of surgery.”
I nod, swallowing the knot in my throat as I stare at the door I’m not allowed to go through. I believe it. I have to believe it. Knox will come out of there. Because he’s Knox. Because he’s stronger than shrapnel and blood loss and the kind of injuries that would kill ordinary men. Because he’s mine, and I’m his, and that has to count for something in this cruel, chaotic world. I just got him, and I’m not losing him.
When he does come out–not if, but when–we’ll have that argument about babies all over again. We’ll fight about numbers and timing and whether our hypothetical children will inherit his stubborn streak or my reckless curiosity.
But no matter how many we have or don’t have, no matter what the future holds, I already know one thing with absolute certainty-
My heart is his.
Strictly Knox’s.
And that’s never going to change.
My final offer’s still two kids, though. I’m not all about that life.
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