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“Ti amo, Zara,” I whisper, pressing my forehead against hers and closing my eyes.
“I love you, Frankie.” It’s barely a whisper. “I just want to sleep. Everything fucking hurts. I can’t deal with it right now.”
I pull back, searching her eyes. There is nothing there. It really fucking hurts watching the life drain out of the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and there isn’t a single thing I can do to make this right.
I cuddle her against me, stroking her hair. Eventually, her sobs subside, I still don’t let her go. I never will.
I will bring her back to me.
And we will seek our revenge against the entire fucking world for taking this away from us.
56
ZARA
Song- Are You Really Okay? Sleep Token.
I lie still, my eyes fixed on the ceiling while Frankie peacefully slumbers beside me. We were supposed to go back to the safe house with everyone after I was discharged from the hospital. I couldn’t face it.
Not with Sienna being pregnant and babies around.
It’s too much.
I didn’t want to be at the hospital either. Frankie called in a private doctor for the next few days.
I’ve barely spoken a word today. I thought when I woke up, it would hurt less. It doesn’t.
Except now, my sadness is joined by hatred for the people who did this to us.
They took Kai’s life and left Keller fighting for his.
It’s hard seeing a man, as big and powerful as him, attached to monitors to keep him alive. It broke my heart that little bit more, I had to see him. To say thank you. He saved my life.
Now, I just want to be locked away from the world with Frankie.
I’ve cried so much, I’ve run out of tears.
The wound on my stomach might hurt, the cuts on my arms, the pounding headache I have. None of that compares to my broken heart.Painkillers can’t fix that.
Frankie has barely left my side, trying to get me to eat something and take my pain meds. He’s hurting, too. But, he puts on a brave face for me.
I sit up and lightly stroke his cheek. How he’s been through this twice and is still standing, I don’t know.
He never falters. He stays strong when I need him to. He has the strength for both of us. I’m spiraling down a path I don’t see a way out of.
My every thought is, what could I have done differently?
“You okay, baby?” he whispers in his husky, sleepy voice.
“No. Not really.” I fight the next onslaught of tears away.
“Come here.” He opens his arms and I fall onto his chest, tracing my finger over the bullet wound on his shoulder.
“Who shot you?” I ask, needing a distraction from my own head.
“Maria. Well, the bullet was meant for Grayson.”
“You’re crazy, you know that? Not many people take a bullet for someone, let alone if that person hates them,” I say.
