Page 95 of Savagely Scarred

“What?” Dorian asks.

“She’s pregnant,” I choke out.

“Mierda.”

“Holy shit.”

While wiping the tears from her face, the vise grip around my heart tightens. Adrenaline and rage surge through my veins to replace the icy panic.

I stroke her cheek and look at Dorian. “How much time do I have?”

“Five. Maybe less.” He nods once. “I got her.”

When I turn to face Kyle, his eyes keep bouncing to the floor and then back to Liv. I switch the knife to my left hand and limp closer. Pain lances through my thigh with each step.

“Sage,” Lorenzo warns.

I shake my head. “Don’t stop me.”

He hesitates for a moment, but then holsters his gun before looping his arms through Kyle’s, restraining him against his chest. Kyle doesn’t even fight him. Dorian continues to talk calmly to Liv, trying to keep her conscious.

As soon as I’m close enough, my arm flies out and I punch Kyle in the jaw. His head flies to the side, but his attention immediately returns to her.

“I didn’t stab her…”

I grit my teeth and punch him again. “I watched you do it!”

He shakes his head and swallows hard. “She’s my wife.”

“She hasn’t been your wife since you laid your hands on her.”

His gaze finally drifts to me, and his eyes are hollow and empty—soulless. I grab his jaw, digging my fingers into his gums, and lean into him.

“I would love nothing more than to torture you until you begged me to kill you.”

I release my grip and move the knife to my right hand. My heartbeat pounds in my ears. There’s no hesitation when I stab the tip of the knife into his groin.

“For every bruise…” I shove the knife in a little deeper.

His eyes widen.

“For every nightmare…” A little more.

A gasp slips past his lips.

“For her first child…” Deeper still.

“Olivia,” he whispers as resignation washes over his face.

"She is mine." I shove the knife in to the hilt. “I made her a promise. And this is me keeping that promise.”

I yank the blade from his femoral artery and step back to watch the river of blood that runs down his leg, soaking his jeans. Lorenzo’s hold loosens and Kyle drops to his knees.

The knife falls from my grip, and I hobble back over to Liv. She’s unable to keep her head up and rests it on Dorian’s arm. The color has drained from her cheeks. She’s silent but still breathing. My hand wraps around her icy one as sirens blare outside.

The ambulance ride blurs together. Blood. Fluids. Hands everywhere. Shouting. I never take my eyes off her.

Once the stretcher hits the pavement, I’m running beside them into the emergency room. Every step on my left side is excruciating, but I refuse to let go of her hand. A doctor and a few nurses rush up and follow us down the bright hallway.