39
Pushing my arm away, she tries to hug me, but I don’t let her.
It hurts.
Fuck, it aches.
“I gave you everything I had,” I grit out, feeling my heart hardening inside of me. Or whatever is left of it.
Tightening my hand around the knife, I dig it into her skin slowly. Her sobs fill the room, my own breaths falling in short pants.
The shaking doesn’t stop.
I can’t do it.
The minute I see a drop of blood, my hand fails.
She shudders and whispers, “Helia, I lo—”
The door bursts open, and people in black uniforms flood the room, filling it with the crackles of the walkie-talkie and masked faces. One after the other, special forces surround me with guns raised.
“Drop your weapon,” the one in front of me warns.
“I didn’t do it…” Ambrose’s voice trails off, and I glance at her. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, her body falling into my arms, unconscious.
“Him! It was him!” Leysa Torre walks inside, pointing her finger at me, and my heart shatters to the floor.
My eyes trace the red puddle around Ambrose. She must have fallen onto something sharp. I look around the room and spot her smashed laptop. Her bedroom is in complete disarray, and her doorknob is almost broken off. Everything is out of place in this bedroom that belongs to the most tidy woman. The signs of struggle are all around the bedroom. I recall her slurred speech and the shakiness in her body.
As realisation sets in, my heart freezes in my body, not working anymore.
“Drop your weapons. This is your last warning,” the muffled command comes, but my eyes don’t move from Ambrose’s prone figure on the floor.
She… didn’t do it.
“The footage showed him killing my husband…” I don’t hear anything that comes out of Leysa’s mouth after that sentence.
I fucked up.
I fucked up so bad to the point I hurt the only woman who loved me. Who cherished me.
Without wasting another second, I move towards Ambrose with a heavy heart, only for arms to force me back. They don’t let me move.
“Let me fucking go!” I thrash against their hold, my eyes on Ambrose.
“Ambrose!” I scream, willing for her to get up.
I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.
“Ambrose, get up!” I plead, thrashing, trying to get out of the hold of the four people on me, but my emotions aren’t letting me focus on anything other than Ambrose.
“Ambrose, I’m sorry, please get up,” I beg. “I’ll do anything, but please get up for me. I’m so sorry!”
“Stop moving.” A muffled voice comes from my left, and that makes me rage.
Using my elbow, I hit one of them in their stomach. Their bulletproof vests barely let them feel anything, but I still try. I hit, kick, punch, and do everything to make them let go of me.
But it doesn’t matter. More and more officers pile into the bedroom, holding me back and keeping me in place.
I hear the faint sound of a helicopter circling the mansion, and more special forces appear on the balcony. They have surrounded the mansion, but I cannot allow them to hurt Ambrose, to use her against me.
“Ambrose! Ambrose! Wake up, I believe you. I’m sorry!”
The knife lodged inside me keeps twisting. I did this to myself and to her.
I ruined what we had.
What was gifted to me.
“I’m sorry for not believing—”
A punch cuts off my sentence, sending me flying back.
“Shut up!” the officer in front of me barks, but my eyes don’t move from Ambrose’s unconscious form.
“Ambrose—”
Another punch is thrown at my face. This time I can feel blood dripping down my chin.
“He helped kill my husband.” Leysa is crying in the corner of the room.
“You think I will let you live peacefully after this?” I give her a lopsided smile. She tried to destroy everything in Ambrose’s life and mine.
She looks up at me, crying, screaming like a toddler, and kicking at the officer consoling her and taking her away.
“Every single one of you is dead.” I look them all in the eye. They don’t react, not knowing what is awaiting them. Death is too easy for keeping me from Ambrose.
I will kill each person they care about first before I move onto them, forcing them to watch everyone they value meet death.
A kick throws me to the floor, and handcuffs wrap around my wrists. I scream and keep screaming at her, but she doesn’t wake up.
Did I ruin the only thing that I wanted desperately in my life?
The only thing that made me feel like a living, breathing man?
We were wrong for each other, we were on opposite ends, and in the end, I have been put on my knees for her.
The officers force me to walk towards the door, but I keep looking back at Ambrose, at the officer tapping her cheek.
“Don’t fucking touch her! I will kill you and skin you alive!” I shout at him. “Ambrose!” I roar one last time, wanting her to just look at me. One time. Just one time.
I see her eyes flutter, but the officers force me to walk away, and I don’t get to see if she saw me pleading for her forgiveness.
She doesn’t get to hear me tell her I believe her and love her.
As they drag me away, my eyes burn with tears that I will turn into knives for every single officer on duty here today.
When I am taken outside, my hair ruffles with the helicopter so low, the buzzing of its blades above me, cars upon cars of MI5 crowd the driveway. An array of reporters is outside the gates, taking pictures, and I make a note to tell Remo to erase all articles of this case.
I look back at the second floor of the mansion, knowing Ambrose is unconscious, and I have done that.
I tore us apart.