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My hand falls away, already coated in the sticky, warm blood seeping from the wound.
Daniel stumbles back a step, his grip releasing my neck and hair. Both of his hands touch my makeshift weapon at the same time. Then his eyes roll back into his head, and he crumples on the ground.
Chapter Fifty
COLE
As I pull up to the curb in front of the library, I realize the writhing mass I caught sight of is a security guard. And he has his hand around Summer’s throat.
I’m not sure the truck is fully in park when I shove my door open and sprint. By the time I reach the pair, Summer isn’t being strangled anymore. Instead, she has her hands on the man’s throat as blood seeps through her fingers.
“Oh my god,” she sobs. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god—”
“Summer!” I grab her shoulders, trying to pull her away from her attacker.
But she just shakes me off, sobbing harder. “Don’t die, don’t die don’t diedon’tdiedontdie—”
“Summer, let him go. I’ll take care of it. Summer?”
It’s like she can’t hear me. Shock and panic overwhelm all reason.
I’m not too far from that point myself, desperate to find out if any of this blood is hers. But she won’t listen to me.
“Summer? Please look at me. Tell me if you’re hurt.”
She doesn’t respond, just gasps in breaths and mutters pleas to no one in particular.
A wild idea pops into my head.
“Clementine!” I roar the word. Finally, she jerks her frantic gaze up, meeting mine.
“What?”
Desperate to comfort her, I stroke a hand over her wild hair. “I just wanted your attention. Now I need you to listen to me. I’m going to apply pressure to his neck, and you’re going to call 9-1-1.”
She glances from me to the bleeding man, as if just comprehending the two of us exist in the same space. Then Summer gives a jerky shake of her head.
“No. No, you need to leave.” She sobs. “You have a criminal record! You can’t be around this!”
Fucking damn it. I love this woman.
“Summer.” I keep my voice calm and steady, hoping that’ll help her see reason. “You need to call an ambulance.”
“Clementine! I will! Just get out of here first.”
“You’re using that wrong.” Frustration has me growling. “And if you don’t call the cops, I will. But I have bigger hands, and I can apply more pressure to the wound. So stop arguing and just let me help.”
My words must break through the adrenaline soaking her mind. She lets her palms slide away from the bloody wound, fumbling in the pocket of her dress for her phone as I take over.
Those stains will never come out, I can’t help thinking as my eyes trace over the bloody fingerprints on blue cotton. Great thing to be focusing on when there’s a man bleeding out under my grip.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” I hear the operator say as Summer puts the phone on speaker. She’s frantic in her explanation, but she hits the important parts.
She was attacked.
She took the man down with a pencil.
An ambulance needs to show up soon.
