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Frustration coursed through me when all the cupboard doors were open, but there was no sign of anything that could help Jacob. I wasn’t going to give up, though; I couldn’t. I searched again, pulling items out of each cupboard in my bid to find something.

I didn’t know how much time had passed, but when I pulled out a box of cleaning equipment, I shouted with relief as I found a green bag with a white cross on it. Grabbing it, I leaped to my feet, sprinting as fast as possible back to Jacob’s office.

At the top of the stairs, Wallace waited. “I found it,” I panted, breathless from the burst of energy I’d expended. Moving past Wallace, my footsteps were halted when he wrapped a solid arm around my bicep, tugging me back toward him and preventing me from getting the kit to Jacob. “What are you doing? Let me go!”

A glint of wickedness flashed through Wallace’s dull eyes, and too focused on getting to Jacob, I didn’t see him raise his hand until it was too late. He reached my neck, stabbing me in the side of it with a sharp prick.

Cool liquid flowed through my veins, and I dropped the first aid kit. My hand lifted to the spot where pain radiated from whatever he’d stabbed me with. “What…what did you do?”

The words came from my mouth, but I heard how slurred they were. My head spun as darkness closed in around my vision. My body suddenly felt as heavy as concrete, my legs wanting to buckle, unable to keep me standing.

“Wallace…help,” I slurred, but upon seeing the venomous grin on his face, I knew my plea for help would go unanswered.

Barely able to keep my eyes open, I registered Wallace moving me, seconds before he shoved me. My legs slipped from underneath me, and a scream caught in my throat as I fell backwards. My head crashed against each step as I tumbled down the entire length of the staircase before slamming my head against the tiled floor in the foyer.

The last thing I heard before my world turned black was another gunshot.

Chapter 37

Pain like I’d been hit by a freight train rampaged through my entire body. My eyes cracked open the tiniest amount, slamming shut again when they were met by a blinding white light.

Was I dead?

Had I gone to Heaven?

What the hell happened?

Muffled voices floated from nearby, one startlingly familiar, but instead of the happy butterflies I usually got in my stomach whenever I heard Jacob’s alluring voice, every fiber of my being screamed at me to get far away from him.

But why?

My thoughts raced as I tried to remember why I needed to get away from Jacob, but all that filled my head was darkness.

Movement shifted by my side before someone—Jacob, I presumed—took one of my hands in his, lacing his fingers with mine. At the scent of Jacob wrapping around me like a comforting blanket, my eyes opened when an overwhelming need to see him took over my senses.

Bright light seared my retinas, and as I winced against the sharp pain, my predicament rushed at me all at once.

I was in a hospital bed, surrounded by walls of a soft blue. Next to me, a machine beeped, a tube traveling from the machine to a needle embedded into my right hand—the hand Jacob was clasping, his gaze fixed on where he ran a thumb over my knuckles.

Glancing to my other hand, my breath caught at finding it cloaked in a plaster cast that covered from the tips of my fingers right up to my elbow. My eyes tracked down the length of my body, taking in my other injury. I was on top of the covers, my right leg encased in a plaster cast that went from mid-thigh to my foot, my toes just visible.

A panicked gasp escaped me, causing Jacob to glance up at me, his brows pulled together in concern. “Angel, you’re awake.”

At the sound of his voice, a montage of images flashed before my eyes. The USB stick, the blood-stained wedding dress, the police report of Jenson’s incarceration. Each memory played out before my eyes as if I were watching a film that I couldn’t turn off.

Jacob spoke again, but his words were lost to the image of him catching me in his office and confessing to killing Amy. Him prowling toward me, telling me that the only way I’d be free of him was if he was dead.

Me, shooting him.

My gaze roamed over Jacob’s chest, at the place I’d shot him. Tears stung my eyes at finding a thick bandage covering his shoulder, and his arm resting in a sling.

My head spun, and I yanked my hand from his, fear replacing the panic at knowing that my punishment for shooting him would be unendurable.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” Jacob asked softly, shuffling forward in his seat with concern lacing his voice.

“Don’t hurt me,” I sobbed as I attempted to move back in my bed, prevented by the pain lancing my body.

The crease between his brows deepened. “What? Why would I hurt you? Sweetheart, what’s-”