Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 11601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 46(@250wpm)___ 39(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 46(@250wpm)___ 39(@300wpm)
Riley’s gaze finally snaps away from mine. “Is he okay?” She gasps heavily as the door closes, and we can no longer see Grayson’s limp, bleeding body.
“We’ll get you both to the hospital and you’re both going to be fine,” someone responds before I can.
Riley squeezes her eyes shut. She’s not crying anymore, but a pained expression crosses her tear-stained face.
“I’ll ride with her,” I tell the female paramedic. “She needs me.”
And I’m not leaving her side until I get answers.
Until…she lets go of my hand.
Until…she no longer wants me there.
CHAPTER THREE
Riley
It smells like death.
I hate it.
It’s loud. There are too many voices.
I hate it.
My chest hurts…I can’t breathe.
I hate how the hospital smells, the unmistakable scent of blood seeping through a veil of antiseptic. The stench of death lingers around us. Hospitals are a close second to graveyards.
I killed a man today.
Why can’t I breathe?
Harrison, Grayson’s father, is dead. I shot him.
Maybe this is all just a nightmare.
It feels like it.
Yeah, it’s just a bad dream…
But my thoughts are not convincing enough.
I feel a touch on my knee, and I look down to see Colton’s hand. His thumb brushes back and forth over my knee. There’s so much tenderness in his touch that a sob chokes my throat as fresh tears leak from my eyes. I hurt him before I left…
I went to see Grayson and now he is hurt, too. Possibly dying.
I hurt everyone around me.
My father had been right. I really am a disaster. I was the unwanted child of my parents, and I have only brought pain to those around me.
Unworthy. Broken. Hideous.
I am a plague. A disease that can only harm.
That’s exactly what I am.
“Whatever you’re thinking — stop.”
His hand grasps mine, entwining our fingers together before giving my hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance. I look up, meeting Colton’s gaze. His clothes are rumpled, his hair is messy and he looks weary. I know he is, because Colton hasn’t left my side once since I called him. He held my hand while the doctors checked my injuries, when they stitched the cut on my forehead and bandaged my other wounds.
He didn’t let go of my hand even when I was being questioned by Detective Mallik for a whole hour. I was asked to describe everything that happened in detail, not once. But three times. To two different officers and then Detective Mallik. I was questioned, over and over again. About the same damn things.
Who shot Harrison? How did you escape? Why did you meet Grayson? Did you know anything about Harrison before today?
I answered all their questions as much as it pained me to do so. To relive everything that Grayson and I had been through at the hands of Harrison. I talked until my throat hurt, until the ache in my heart was too much to bear.
Until it felt like my soul had been wrecked beyond fixing.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Colton holds up our entwined fingers and presses his lips against the back of my hand. His voice drops low, a deep timbre that resonates through my whole body. He sounds so calm and collected…comforting. “You’re blaming yourself, stop.”
Colton promised to stay by my side…and he did so, unwaveringly. I don’t know how I will ever thank him, or somehow repay this debt.
But he’s wrong.
It is my fault. Grayson is hurt to this extent because he protected me. If it wasn’t for me—
My gaze shifts to the left, where Grayson’s aunt and uncle are sitting opposite from us. Mr. Hale or as he’s famously known, Judge Hale, looks worn out; his forehead is lined with worry as he frowns. Even with him looking this weary, the air that surrounds him — it’s full of confidence and self-assurance.
His wife’s eyes are closed, but her face is puffy from crying. They both flew in from Manhattan when they received the call about Grayson’s current state. Mr. Hale glances in my direction as if he can feel me watching them. His gaze is sharp, unyielding, and I quickly look away. I can’t hold their eyes; I can’t even bring myself to look at them.
Do they blame me?
Do they think it’s my fault that their nephew, who they love as if he is their own son, is currently fighting for his life on the operating table?
“Look at me, Riley,” Colton whispers, his eyes searching mine for any sign of understanding. “I know this has been a nightmare, but we’re going to get through this together. You’re safe now; I won’t let anything happen to you.” His words cut through the chaos in my mind, grounding me in his presence. Despite the fear and uncertainty swirling around us, I find solace in the unwavering strength he exudes. “Grayson is going to be fine.”
“He’s been in surgery for so long.”