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Adrenaline still coursed through my body. Getting shot fucking hurt.
And Julianna could have seriously been injured.
Worst, she could have…died. That gunshot would have been fatal to her if I hadn’t gotten to her in time.
I didn’t know why that bothered me, when I could care less if she continued to breathe or not. But fuck, my body had acted against my will. The sudden and fierce need to protect her, I didn’t know where that came from. I blamed it on the adrenaline. I blamed it on the weakness of a moment.
Whether I loathed her or not, she was still my wife. Her name was attached to mine and people would question and whisper if she was found dead on the island while I was also here. Killian Spencer couldn’t save Julianna, they’d say behind my back.
Killian’s wife was assassinated in front of his own eyes, they’d whisper.
The common people would twist the story until the simple truths would become bitter lies. The high society would eat up the rumors and drag my name into the dirt.
The absolute look of lunacy on the maid’s face still flickered in my mind. I tried to sift through my memories, attempting to figure out if her face was familiar, if she was someone I knew – but I was drawing blanks.
The maid was nobody…
But why the fuck would she try to shoot Julianna?
And why suicide?
“I want every person on this island questioned,” I hissed, my wound burning like fucking acid had been poured onto my flesh. “And if words leave this island, if anyone else finds out about this, I will personally fire every single person in this place and I will make sure they never find a job anywhere else. Understood? Make it known. Warn everyone.”
Samuel’s brows furrowed. “Are you sure she didn’t try to shoot you? I mean, why Julianna? It’s possible she didn’t act on her own and was hired by someone else.”
“The gun was pointed at her; I saw it clearly. I wasn’t anywhere in range. I was behind Cerberus.”
Julianna had been the one in the open, vulnerable.
Goddamn it.
“Who the fuck tried to kill my wife and why?” I growled, fury burning through my veins. I was incensed.
“You seem awfully caring for someone who claims he hates his wife,” Samuel drawled, almost mockingly. He handed me a glass of water and I quickly gulped it down before handing the glass back to him.
“I hate her,” I said, reaffirming my feelings for Julianna.
Samuel raised an eyebrow in question. “Then why did you take a bullet for her?”
Samuel had been working for me for six years. He was my bodyguard – but not exactly. More like he just followed me everywhere. He was a friend and a foe sometimes, because while he didn’t usually question me, he also had a habit of speaking his mind without thinking of the consequences.
I was his boss, after all. But the bastard acted like he didn’t give a shit that I could easily fire him. Not that I wanted to. He was one the few people I actually trusted, but sometimes, he really got on my fucking nerves.
I held a hand over my injury, wincing only slightly as the wound burned. “Because she’s my wife.”
“I don’t get it. The more I try to understand your relationship with her, the more confused I become,” Samuel said, pulling his medical kit in front of him. “I’m gonna have to stitch you up without anesthesia.”
I unbuttoned my white shirt, that was now dirty and bloodied, to give Samuel access to my bullet wound. He was good at what he did, but this was going to hurt like a motherfucker without anesthesia.
Trying to distract myself while he got his stuff ready, I focused on his previous words. “Don’t try to understand mine and Julianna’s relationship. What we have is nothing short of destruction. That’s what we are together – pure chaos.”
My teeth ground together as Samuel removed the bullet and stitched the wound. I ignored the needle going through my flesh as the scene replayed in my head again.
“How’s Julianna?” I practically gritted out as he finished with the last stitch.
“She’s safe. Just shaken up a bit with some bruises and scrapes,” Samuel said with a sigh. “I already told you that; this is the third time you asked.”
“Her life is important to me.”
“Because your father–”
“Yes,” I barked. Samuel gave me a side-eye; he shrugged and closed his first-aid kit, after wrapping a bandage over the wound.
I balled my hands into fists and dragged the comforter over me. “Stop giving me that fucking look.”
He blinked innocently. “What did I do?”
My eyes started to droop and my vision blurred, my body growing weary. I could feel the sleep pulling me under, dragging me into unconsciousness.
My head snapped to Samuel and I cursed him and his stupid grin. “You fucking drugged me, asshole.”
