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“You’re thinking I deserved that. Maybe you’re right, maybe I do, but Tommy is a passionate man, and I know he’d love me more if you weren’t fucking with his head.”
Ice settles in my belly as she steps up to the side of the bed and I realise what she grabbed off the floor. It’s the knife the doctor threatened them with. She glances down at Skye, her eyes locked on her stomach.
“He wants your baby gone, and if I deliver that, he’ll be sorry for what he did.”
Skye lifts her head as Scarlett holds her hand against her chest and cuts into her belly.
The scream Skye releases will haunt me for the rest of my days. I’ve heard men wail and yell, and I’ve tortured and killed my share, but their cries never bothered me.
My blood runs cold as I hack faster at the ropes, my eyes locked on the macabre scene in front of me. I’m relieved when the bindings around my chest finally fall free, allowing me to bend forwards. Hacking through the ones around my legs, my pulse hammers in my ears.
Scarlett lifts the blade away, turning her head to the side as blood trickles down Skye’s stomach.
“I’m not sure you’re going to survive this,” she mumbles, her gaze unfocused.
She leans down to cut again just as I saw through the last rope keeping me in place.
I launch myself from the chair, and although she turns as I rush at her, I’m quicker. I slam the scalpel into her neck with enough pressure that the tip of it sticks out the other side.
Her eyes flare, shock making her dazed as I pull it out, blood spraying as I do. I grab the front of her shirt and run the knife into her over and over again, releasing all the tension and frustration I had to bury within me to get us out of this mess.
When I release my hold on her, she slides bonelessly to the ground, her body twitching in the last throes of panic before she stills.
I wipe the blood on my jeans, rushing over to the bed. Trembles rack Skye’s body as her eyes slide to mine. The cut Scarlett made in her stomach doesn’t look deep, though it is bleeding. Seeing it makes me want to stab the fucking bitch again, but my only focus is on Skye and getting us out of here before Tommy comes back.
The gunfight sounds as if it’s getting closer, and I hold out hope that it belongs to friendlies and we’re not about to go into a situation even worse than this one.
I undo the buckles keeping her thighs in place, then the ones over her chest and stomach. I don’t focus on how out of it she seems or the tears staining her cheeks. There will be time to deal with all this later, but for now, our focus has to be on surviving.
The chains around her wrists are the last things I remove, and my heart leaps as my fingers skim over her skin to take them off.
“You need to sit up,” I say. There’s no time to ask if she can—we have to get out of here.
I help her up, hating the noise she makes as she comes up right. She holds her sweater up near her breasts to look at the damage to her stomach, all the while making soft hiccupping sounds.
“I’m bleeding,” she says, placing her hands either side of the cut spanning from her left hip round to her belly button.
I grab the doctor’s bag, rummaging through it until I find something that looks like wound dressing. Quickly, I open it and press it over the wound. Skye gasps, whimpering at my not so gentle touch, but there isn’t time for that. I layer as many as I need to cover the wound before I pull her sweater down over it.
I know I should wait, that there isn’t time for this, but when I stand her up, I tug her against me, my hand resting on the back of her head as I soak her in. I can’t believe how close I came to losing them both, though we’re still not out of the woods.
I don’t want to let her go, but I have to. I grab the knife off the edge of the bed where I placed it so I could unchain her and take hold of her hand with the other.
Tugging her towards the door, she digs her heels in suddenly, making me stop. Her eyes slide towards the doctor, but his chin rests on his chest, his mouth slack. “He’s gone,” I say, trying to keep my voice gentle, but there’s an urgency in my words.
She stumbles behind me as I reach for the door handle, and without warning, it’s kicked open.
I stagger back, keeping her behind me, ready to fight, until I realise who it is standing in front of me.
Hawk roams his eyes over my face, his jaw hard. There’s blood spattered up his neck and pieces of his hair have fallen free from the tie at his nape. The relief I feel seeing the gun in his hand almost loosens my leg muscles.
“Good to see you, kid,” he says before a familiar figure steps in behind him.
Kane Fraser is an imposing man, and he somehow manages to make the space feel even smaller than it is. He glances at us both before his gaze slides around the room.
“Time to go,” he says before stepping back out of the room.
Hawk peers at me for a moment, as if trying to work out if I’m able to get us out of here. I give him a nod as I tuck Skye against my side, her small body trembling against me.
