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“I want your life!”
“You have it,” I tell her, tears springing to my eyes. “You’ve done what you set out to accomplish. If it’s my last name and money you want, have it. None of it matters to me anyway.”
“That’s the fucking problem with people like you,” she snarls, her face mere inches from mine. “You always want more!”
She laughs again and I take the opportunity to bring my knee up, kicking at her stomach with my foot, trying desperately to break her hold. When she stumbles, I reach for the door again, only to be pulled back by my hair.
There’s a burning pain in my shoulder blade and I cry out, turning to see her holding a bloody knife.
“You fucking stabbed me,” I gasp, reaching my hand around to feel the wound. When I bring it back around, it’s covered in blood and I feel my head start to spin, but I refuse to let her win… not now, not after everything she’s put me through.
Not when I finally have the life I’ve always wanted.
Instead of letting the pain and fear take hold, I summon all the rage inside me, harnessing my anger and using it like a battering ram.
Instead of running, I fight.
Gripping her hand that’s still holding the blade, I begin to beat it against the wall until I hear it drop to the floor. When she tries to bend over to pick it up, I pull up my knee, making contact with her face.
Her eyes grow wide when she touches her nose and sees blood on her hand.
What happens after that is a blur, but one second I’m standing and the next, I’m on the floor, fighting for possession of the knife.
I feel it slice through my hand and again on my arm, but I keep fighting until I hear a loud bang come from behind me and Mack’s booming voice calling my name.
“Greer! Open this goddamn door!”
Lydia takes advantage of the distraction and yanks my head up, only to smash it back down against the hard tiled floor.
A second later, I swear I hear a loud crash, right before the room goes black.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
MACK
“I’m goingto fucking kill him.”
With my back pressed against the wall beside the door to Greer’s hospital room, I close my eyes and try to rein in the unadulterated fury I feel.
“Mack,” Ross warns. He’s usually a calming force for me, but right now, all I can see is red and I want to put my hands on fucking Jason Freeman.
“I’m sure Mr. Freeman wasn’t aware of Ms. Dalton’s motives,” Detective Briggs says. “He seemed a little rattled when I brought him in for questioning.”
Apparently, Lydia Dalton, the woman who has been stalking Greer and attacked her in the bathroom—the reason she is laying in a fucking hospital bed—met Jason Freeman at a bar on Bourbon Street a few weeks ago. If I had to guess, she fucked her way into an invite to Owen and Sophie’s wedding.
It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
“Here’s my card,” the detective says. “I’ll be back to check on Ms. Bradley later, but if anything comes up while I’m gone, feel free to give me a call.”
Once he’s gone, I feel Ross take up residence on the wall beside me. “She’s going to be okay. The doctor said she’ll need some time to heal, but she’s going to be okay.”
As tears sting my eyes, I focus on the lines in the tile beneath my feet and breathe through the anger and frustration. I’ve already berated myself for not being there, for not checking on her sooner. I’ve also considered what could’ve happened had I not finally gone to find her and that took me down a dark path, one I never wanted to go on.
“I need her,” I admit, my voice cracking. “I need her to be okay and for that woman to pay for what she did. And I need her to be safe and happy and whole. I just… I fucking need her.”
I’m full-on snot-crying now and I wipe across my face with the sleeve of my shirt.
Ross’s hand lands on my shoulder and we just stand here in the hospital corridor, the faint background sounds filling the sterile air.
