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He was going to do whatever it took to get Chloe to let him apologize to her, then he was going to do whatever it took to make things up to her.
It was time to stop living drenched in pain and anger. It was time to let it go and move on.
So, that’s what he was trying to do, and the first thing he had to do was make sure that Chloe was safe.
He had followed her from her house to Savannah’s, and then here. He wasn't quite sure where here was, but Chloe and Savannah had headed into a house across the street from where he was parked.
They had gone in about five minutes ago.
And now he had this feeling in his gut that said that Chloe wasn't okay.
It made no sense. Tom wasn't with her, so wherever she had gone, she hadn’t thought it was dangerous.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling.
Fin was debating whether he should go and check things out, which was going to make Chloe pretty mad if he was wrong and he interrupted whatever she was doing just because he had a panic attack.
Even if he was right, what was he going to do? He was a doctor, not an FBI agent or a cop. If Chloe were in trouble, how was he going to help her?
He was still debating when a single shot sliced through the air.
A gunshot.
Before he had time to process what he was doing, he was out of the car and running toward the house Chloe and Savannah had entered.
That the gunshot had come from a different house never even occurred to him.
He didn't stop running until he stepped through the door.
Both Chloe and Savannah lay in crumpled heaps on the floor.
He didn't see blood.
Who had been shot?
Fin started toward Chloe when something sharp pricked his leg.
He batted at it, found a syringe embedded in his calf.
Someone had drugged him.
His limbs began to tingle, and his vision blurred. Any minute he was going to pass out and then what would happen to them? What would happen to Chloe? Was she even still alive?
She was so still.
She hadn’t roused as he’d entered the house.
He tried to go to her, but his legs began to tremble then gave out, and he landed hard on his knees. He shuffled toward her as best as he could as his limbs grew heavier and more uncooperative.
He had to get to her.
He had to know that she was still alive.
He would fight with every fiber of his being if she was.
“Chloe.” He tried to say her name, but his voice box was seizing up, and it came out rough and gravelly.
She was so close and yet so far away.
