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Gwyneth’s body shakes with the impact of the shot but then stills, blood pooling from the various holes we put in her.
I don’t take my sights off of her. No, I empty the fucking chamber into her chest and hope that if there were a chance for her in the afterlife, that this will be enough to kill her in any lifetime. “Fucking. Bitch.”
Dominic grabs me by the shoulders and turns me toward him. “She’s gone, June.” He takes the gun from my hand and tosses it aside. “Here.” He shoves one of his into my grasp and glances at Claire. “We need to get out of here.”
We may have defeated the evil bitch, but her minions are still out there, ready to defend her even in her death.
32
DOMINIC
“BP ninety over sixty. Pulse one fifty. We need another bag of blood.”
I shove into the room as people in scrubs dart around.
“We need to find the tear,” a woman says. “There’s a compromised artery.”
“Sir.” A man approaches me. “You cannot be in here.”
I settle my sights on Coen. Tubes and IVs and bags and monitors attached to him. Shit beeping at various rates. This isn’t right. He shouldn’t be there. Not like this.
“We have to cauterize it or we’re going to lose him.”
The man grips my shoulders, and with the help of another bigger guy, they shove me out the way I came.
I burst into the room to get answers for June, but how am I supposed to tell her what I just heard? That if they don’t act quickly, her first love is going to die.
She hates me enough as it is, and now I have to give her that news.
If I would have come forward sooner, maybe none of this would have happened.
Why was I so fucking afraid to be honest with her when honesty might have been the only thing that could have saved us from this nightmare?
She was built for this. This life. This world. This fucking darkness.
I didn’t want it for her. Neither did Coen. But now here she is, covered in multiple people’s blood and not for a second crumbling from the things she’s done. Maybe she’s just in shock. The potential loss of Coen making her forget that she just brutally murdered a woman and shot numerous others to escape.
I should have known from the start. That moment when I was the one covered in blood, had just beaten her attacker in front of her, and instead of running out of there or shying away, she stepped forward and took my hand in hers. She reached forward, pressing her palm along my crimson-speckled face, and did something I never expected. She fucking kissed me.
I was over twice her age. Had hardly spoken to her in the weeks I had been going into that bar. There was an undeniable chemistry but I assumed it was just on my end. I had put my brutality on display for her only for her to step into that darkness and embrace it. I figured it was a one-off. That she was just being curious, that the thrill of it would wear off and she would come to her senses and realize how bad of a man I was. But with each passing moment, she continued to defy the limits I had put on her.
She handled the truth then, why did I ever assume she couldn’t?
Maybe it was that deep seeded fear that eventually I would wake up and this would all be over. That if I kept her from the life that I could stop that from happening. I could prolong whatever time I had with her if I just separated her from the dark parts of my world.
But in doing so, I built a bridge and tore down the pieces before she could cross it with me. Here I am, standing in the rubble with no hope of ever getting back across.
I walk through the corridor of the hospital, with my head down, and turn into the waiting room.
June paces the small space but rushes over to me immediately. That tight little dress ripped to shreds and dried blood coating most of her exposed skin. “How is he? Is he okay? Where is he? Can I see him?”
I swallow and put on my best face. “He’s in surgery.” I meet her gaze. “We should know something soon.”
“No.” June rocks her head back and forth. “I know that look, Dominic. What aren’t you telling me?” She tilts her head to look around me. “I want to see him.Now.”
“They kicked me out of the room, June.” I drag my hand over my beard. “The bullet hit an artery. They’re doing what they can to find the tear and patch him up.” I choose honesty because anything else will only make the situation worse.
June’s eyes glisten as new tears form. “That’s…that’s bad. The mortality rate is…”
