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Chapter Thirty-Eight
The blood lossis making me hallucinate. Blinking several times, I wait for the two blurry shapes to disappear, but all they do is slowly enter the room and spread out, circling us from both sides.
Emily shifts to straddle me, moving the knife at lightning speed to my neck. "Tristen, what a surprise," she chirps as if she ran into her long-lost friend in the grocery store. Then, her gaze swivels to the other man. "And George Weiler. I did not expect you two to ever join forces." She cocks her head.
"And why is that?" George mimics her expression, unfazed.
"Well, would you expect Lilly’s father"—she chuckles, smiling sweetly at Tristen—"excuse me, adopted father, to work with the man who is his daughter’s kidnapper’s accomplice?"
No, no, no.
Unable to move in more ways than just being paralyzed, my gaze flicks back and forth between the men. Tristen and George are going in and out of focus, and I'm blaming my current physical state for that. What I do see, though, is that neither of them shows an emotional response to the bomb Emily dropped. Does Tristen know? My mother adjusts her position on top of me, pushing the knife deeper into my flesh.
"Ahhhh," a high-pitched gurgle comes out of my mouth.
The pain receptors in my upper half work perfectly because the intrusion of the metal in my skin sends a searing sensation through my body. My heart rate has exceeded any acceptable rhythm and has moved to an unhealthy, call-an-ambulance-immediately pace.
It fucking hurts.
This is the first time George and Tristen acknowledge me. They scan me from head to toe and settle on my leg. It's mostly covered by Emily sitting on it, but they see it. The blood must've seeped through my pants and into the mattress. Their eyes narrow, and both lift their arms simultaneously. Until now, I hadn't noticed their guns. George's Glock 19 and Tristen's Sig P365XL are both trained at my mother.
"Get off my daughter," Tristen commands in an eerily calm voice. He locks eyes with me, and just then, everything blurs again. Ugh. Squinting, I try to focus on the scene in front of me, but it's no use.
"Not until she signs the papers." Emily's response is just as calm. She reaches back with her free hand and squeezes my injured leg. I can feel her torture. My stomach flips; the sedatives are wearing off. Unfortunately, my relief is short-lived. That also means I can feel the agonizing assault of my wound. Make it stop.
A whimper escapes me, and I clench my jaw not to scream out loud and distract George and Tristen from their target: my mother.
George jerks a step forward at my pained sound, but Emily expected one of them to react, and she digs in deeper. Every cell in my body is suddenly on fire, and I can't stop myself. A gut-wrenching cry erupts in my throat.
"Ahhhhhhh!"
At that moment, all hell breaks loose.
"CALLAAA!" Three sets of eyes jerk toward the door as Rhys bursts into the room.
"Rhy—" I can’t finish his name before my voice gives out.
He tries to get to me, but George moves lightning-fast, dropping his gun and wrapping his arms around him, pinning him in place.
Rhys struggles against the hold, George having a hard time keeping control over him. Rhys is losing it. "LET ME GO, YOU COCKSUCKER! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU CRAZY BITCH." He's screaming at George and Emily at the same time, his eyes blazing, never leaving mine.
I want to soothe his pain.
I don't like seeing him like this.
Please don't let him get hurt.
What is he doing here?
My thoughts are all over the place; I can't concentrate. This is all too much.
Tristen flicks his gaze to his son before focusing again on his target. "Emily, if you don't let go of my daughter immediately, you will not walk out of here."
But instead of complying, she starts laughing hysterically. "You are such a joke, Tristen. What are you going to do? If you so much as twitch that finger, I will slice her open so George's face decoration looks like a beauty mark. Tell mydaughter to sign over the money, and you can have her. Hell, you can have all of them. I'll give you Gray on top of it. He's the one who killed Payton anyway. I had nothing to do with that."
"No, you cunt, you only physically abused your child, gave her up, and now kidnapped her. For what? Money that the man who didn't want you left to her?"
"RHYS!" Tristen barks at his son’s outburst.
