Page 39 of The Grand Rise


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“She’s seven.” And as if she can’t help it, she adds, “Her name’s Waverley.”

“Oh, what a beautiful name. Where did you find it?”

A smile pulls at my lips, but then that same heaviness I felt in my body last night starts to seep through to my bones.

“Uh…” Don’t tell her, Scar. It’s ours. Just ours. “I found it online. One of those unique baby name websites.”

“Waverley. It’s so pretty.”

“You’re wild, Lance Sullivan. Completely and utterly wild.”

“You love me wild.”

“I do, you know.”

“You do what?”

I try to lift my hand off the bed, but I can’t, my body—my mind—drifting away someplace safe.

“Love you.”

“I love you, Lance.”

It’s ours.

“Messy, crazed love capable of tearing me apart.”

“I’ve known it for a while now.”

Just ours, Scar.

I don’t know what time it is, but as Scarlet’s raised voice echoes throughout the ward, my eyes snap open.

“Calm down. Please.”

I pull back the covers, my foot barely meeting the cold hospital floor before I bear down on my broken leg and rush from the room. I frown, the roaring pain in my right leg—

“Mr Evelly, please. Let me go.”

I look from left to right down the corridor, still disorientated from sleep. “Scarlet,” I mutter, barely a whisper. “Scar.”

“Dr Lowell, security is on their way. Mr Evelly—”

“Get back!”

My blood turns to ice as the baritone voice snarls. I follow the sound, rounding the desk and limping toward the cubicle at the far end of the ward.

“Call for Grant. Call for Grant now.”

I grasp the curtain and drag it back, my eyes snapping straight to her.

“I told you, girl—”

Rage unlike anything I’ve ever known stills my entire body, a chilling calm spreading under my skin as I take in his towering form. He has Scarlet pinned to the bed, one of his hands locked on her throat, and his other on her wrist.

I catch the light shake of her head as I near, the useless plea in her fearful eyes.

I’m pretty sure adrenaline is the only thing keeping me on my feet.

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