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All we needed to do now was follow them.
“Back the fuck off,” Ben yelled at the gang. Then he dropped his voice to speak to us. “Jackson, inside. Ye next, Val.”
He rounded me to put his hand to my chest, driving me back.
Two things happened in quick succession.
The rat-faced man lurched forward, blade flashing and aimed at my brother.
I shoved Ben out of the line of fire, right as the blade slashed down. Rat-face stumbled as he missed.
His knife embedded in my thigh. He yanked it free and fell back.
Instantly, I knew something was badly wrong. I’d been injured before, and usually there was no pain until the adrenaline wore off. This was different. A dull ache was followed by a rush of blood blooming from the slice through my jeans and flesh.
Far too quickly, the stain spread.
My heart pounded.
Rage swallowed me whole.
He’d aimed at my brother, the bastard.
A couple of months ago, Jackson had neutralised a man wielding a blade, but that was a solo attacker. This fucker had brought his gang. I was going to take every one of them down.
But my attacker chucked his knife and ran, his friends sprinting away with him.
Ben swore a blue streak and tugged me into the back seat of the car, Jackson manhandling me between them.
“Put pressure on the wound. We need a tourniquet,” Jackson ordered.
“Hospital, now,” Ben ordered the driver.
It took me several seconds to catch up, my brain dangerously slow. I’d been stabbed. Somewhere vital. And my life force was ebbing away.
Chapter 22
Mia
I paced my room, a check on the girls showing me they slept. I couldn’t do the same. After Valentine hung up, my heart rate hadn’t slowed. All manner of dangerous situations plagued my thoughts. Anything could’ve happened.
But Valentine wasn’t mine to worry about.
I knew that. He’d told me so.
He still had feelings for his ex, and I had to respect that he wasn’t going to magically lose those and change his mind about me. I had to get over my minor obsession with the man and continue with my own life.
Miserable, I lay in my bed and opened the romance app I’d made my profile in. I’d used yet another fake name than the one I was running with at work and the open-blouse photo Valentine suggested.
1,182 potential matches, the app told me.
God. That had moved quickly.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at any of the profiles whose owners had liked mine. Nor could I rest for fear of hearing about Valentine. A battle raged inside me. At last, I put my phone onto Do Not Disturb and forced my eyes closed.
It was a long time until I dropped off.
The next morning, I took off my phone’s restrictions as Cameron collected the girls to take them to school.
