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Her father’s eyes narrow. “No. I loved her. But she loved him. And she knew I’d never let her go, so she took the easy way out. A cocktail of sleeping pills and booze followed by a late-night swim in the pool.” His jaw clenches as his gaze drops to the floor. “She never was a good swimmer.”
A tear trickles down Amalie’s pale cheek. “You may as well have forced the drink and pills down her throat yourself if she felt that was her only way out. And believe me, I know what it’s like to be a prisoner in my own home. To be nothing but a possession sold to the highest bidder. You’ve never been a father to me. You’re a fucking monster, and I have the scars to prove it.”
“Poor little Amalie. So hard done by with her designer clothing and private education,” he mocks. “Your mother found a way to escape me, but don’t think for one second you’ll do the same.” His lip pulls back in a sneer. “You thought you could hide from me in this hick town? Thought marrying some second-rate deputy would protect you? There’s nowhere you can go that I won’t find you, daughter. No one can take you from me. I have far too much riding on this deal to allow some sham wedding to get in the way. Fortunately, the man I have lined up for you doesn’t mind that you’re now spoiled goods.”
Her father tips his head to the side as the approaching wail of police sirens. “It seems our time here is up.” He sighs as if he’s bored. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes.” His gaze moves to the man holding me at gunpoint. “Kill him.”
The gunshot echoes through the hallway, a sharp crack that cuts through the chaos like a knife. Her father's henchmen falter, their attention momentarily diverted as their boss slumps to the floor, a single bullet hole between his eyes leaking blood.
Amalie’s gaze flies to mine, her face pinched. “Lucas? I-I…”
“It’s okay, sweet girl,” I soothe. “Everything will be?—"
I don’t finish my sentence as all hell breaks loose. Jace and Mal burst through the door, weapons trained on her father’s men. Staccato gunfire erupts, and the guy behind me is the next to fall, followed by two of her father’s goons. That leaves just one alive.
He raises his gun toward Amalie, and a roar of fury tears from my throat as I throw myself at him, knocking him to the ground. His shot flies wild before I dislodge the gun from his hand, drawing my fist back to pummel his face. The crack of bone is satisfying as my fist connects, breaking his nose and sending blood spraying down his face. I punch him again. And again. My rage is a living thing consuming me. I’m a beast, all primal instinct and raw fury.
“No one threatens my wife! No one!” I yell, punching him again.
“Lucas, stop!”
Jace’s voice barely registers as he hauls me off the downed man. My gaze flies to Amalie’s father lying motionless on the ground, the threat he posed extinguished by the same violence he sought to wield.
“Leave him to me. Go to Amalie,” Jace says grimly.
Something in his voice turns my blood to ice. I turn, frantically seeking my wife. When my gaze lands on her, my knees almost give way. She’s on the floor, half-dragged across Mal’s lap, his hand covering a wound in her neck that steadily oozes blood. I know immediately what’s happened. The stray bullet from that fucker’s gun has hit her.
Dear God, no!
“Amalie,” I whisper hoarsely.
I’m by her side in an instant, taking her from Mal and applying pressure to her wound. “Get a fucking ambulance here, now!” I roar, terror pulsing through my veins.
I barely notice as bodies dressed in tactical clothing with automatic weapons rush in, taking control of the situation immediately. I recognize officers from the state police with their reflective lettering on their backs.
“Stay with me, sweet girl,” I say, my voice cracking. “You did so good. It's over, sweetheart. He’ll never hurt you again. Just… don’t leave me. Fuck, don’t leave me, Amalie.”
Amalie’s eyes flicker open, their blue depths filled with pain. “Love you, husband,” she whispers through dry lips. “Thank you.”
Her eyes drift closed again, and she slumps in my arms.
Chapter Thirteen
Amalie
My eyes flutter open, and I'm immediately aware of the sterile environment surrounding me. The beeping of machines and the faint scent of disinfectant fill my senses. I try to move, but my body feels heavy and weak. Panic sets in as I realize I'm in a hospital bed.
"It's okay, sweetheart. You're safe."
I turn my head to see Lucas standing beside me. His expression is a mix of relief and concern, and he looks exhausted.
"Lucas," I whisper, my voice hoarse. It hurts to speak. "What happened?"
He takes my hand, his touch reassuring. "Jace and Mal heard my call for backup on the police scanner. They got there before the cops and took out the guy holding me at gunpoint at two of your father’s goons. The other one fired his weapon before I could take him down. The bullet passed straight through your neck, but you lost a lot of blood. The surgeon patched you up, and you’re going to be fine." He pauses, swallowing hard, his eyes tortured. "Another inch, and I would've lost you."
I give his hand a weak squeeze. "I told you I’m not going anywhere. I love you too much." I pause as the nightmare resurfaces. "I killed him. Killed my father."
"You had no choice. He wasn't leaving without you, and he certainly wasn't going to leave me alive."
