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The sound of the door crashing inward drew a scream from her lips.
Wyatt Jennings limped in—badly hurt, bleeding, his eyes wild.
“Bitch,” he growled, holding his arm. Blood poured down it and painted the floors.
Terrified, she slid down into the root cellar, but he was too fast. He yanked her out of it by the arm and threw her against the wall.
The pain shocked her, and the last pistol flew from her grasp.
Wyatt Jennings looked triumphant as he lifted his gun.
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
The devil’s smile stretched his face as he pulled the trigger.
Boom!
Pain seared through her with the intensity of the sun. Nothing should feel like this. How could something hurt so badly?
She opened her eyes to see Garret’s wolf shredding Wyatt, but he was too late.
He was too late.
She could see the pool of blood stretching from her. A tear loosed from the corner of her eye as she watched her husband avenge her.
He’d been just one second too late.
One tiny second.
She squeezed her eyes closed at the pain, and the next thing she knew, Garret was whispering her name. “Eliza. Stay with me.”
He pulled her upward into his arms and put an immense pressure on her shoulder. The pain was too much. She screamed.
Garret whispered, “No, no, no, no,” as if it would help. “Lenny! Lenny!” he bellowed in a panicked voice.
The white wolf appeared in the doorway, and froze when she saw Eliza.
“It’s okay,” she said thickly, tears streaming down her face. She knew it was bad. “It’s okay.”
“I need help,” Garret growled out, and Lenny bolted inside.
Eliza squeezed her eyes closed again as Garret put an overwhelming pressure on her shoulder and back. It hurt so bad. Soooo bad.
“Garret,” she said through tears and gasping breaths. “If it’s too much for me, promise you’ll write my uncle. Tell him.”
“Don’t talk like that, Eliza,” he pleaded, fear evident in the very whites of his eyes. “I won’t let nothin’ happen to you. Do you hear me? You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be fine.”
“Please,” she begged, “just write him...let him know what has happened to me. Tell him I was...” Her face crumpled at the unfairness. She wanted more time with him. Tears clouded her vision, and she looked up at him. “Tell him I was happy.” She tried to smile again, but the trembling in her voice gave away her fear.
“What’s his name?”
“Frederick Hall. Of Boston.”
Eyebrows furrowed, he whispered, “Frederick Hall is your uncle?”
The corners of her vision blurred and blacked out to a pinpoint.
“Eliza? Eliza! I love you. Do you hear me? I love you. I won’t let nothin’ happen to you. I love you. Don’t leave me!”
