Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Are you going to put your hands on his neck?” Makayla stood with the knife in her hand. Blood dripped from the tip. “Try desperately to save him the way you attempted to save that woman so long ago? I believe her name was Carrie, wasn’t it? Carrie, the beloved older sister of Adam Rule. That guy just never got over his sister’s death. Such a terrible shame.”
The blood had almost reached Wren. She jerked her bound hands back.
Makayla laughed. “Oh, come on, there’s plenty of blood on your hands already.” But she motioned to the man with the tattoo. “Get her in the chair.”
He grabbed Wren’s arm. Yanked her up. Slammed her down into the same chair that Makayla had used moments before. Wren’s duct-taped hands flopped uselessly in her lap. With the tape also bound so tightly around her feet, there was no way she could run.
“You tried to save her—Carrie, I mean. And how did that work out for you?” Makayla looked down at her dripping knife. “I think, for your trouble, her brother tried to kill you, didn’t he? Crazy how fate works. Especially when fate has a little help from someone like me. Someone who knew exactly what Adam would do if he ever found out about you and your fake life.”
Wren muttered behind the tape.
“What’s that?” Makayla’s head tilted back. “Can’t hear you. Van, be a sweetheart and rip that tape off her mouth, will you?”
He was a sweetheart. He ripped the tape off her lips with a merciless snatch of his fingers, and Wren screamed because she was pretty sure he’d ripped skin away, too.
Makayla laughed. “The serial killer’s daughter.” A shake of her head. “I think the world believes you are tougher, scarier than you actually are.” She closed the distance between them. Kept her dripping knife. “Of course, I did embellish a bit. When I contacted Carrie’s dear, grieving brother. When I posted about you in those true crime groups. When I was weaving my web and wrecking your world, I insinuated that you were involved in all sorts of wicked things with your father.” She raised the knife. Pressed the bloody tip to Wren’s chest. “That you were just as evil as dear old dad.”
The pounding of Wren’s heart echoed in her ears. “How did you…find out about my past?”
“It was actually through Milo. That sonofabitch. I was looking for a way to completely rip his life apart, only when I went tearing into his life, I discovered—ready for this shocker? Milo had no family. Zero. Zero blood family. Certainly not some half-brother who’d supposedly fallen hard for a gorgeous Spanish lady during his time studying abroad. There was no fairytale couple that had left behind their daughter for Milo to raise. There was just Milo’s past with the Feds. And rumors that he was still hunting one particular serial killer who had always eluded him. The Sweetheart Slasher. Of course, that killer was at his peak when I was a kid. You were a kid, too, so you know that. But I got curious about the monster who had become Milo’s obsession. And I discovered that Jonathan Wales—Dr. Jonathan Wales—was one of the individuals strongly suspected to have been the Sweetheart Slasher. A man who’d vanished. Along with his daughter.”
Wren tried to jump out of the chair, but the goon with Makayla had moved behind Wren. He clamped his hands around her shoulders to hold her in place.
Makayla lifted the knife and let it press into Wren’s throat. “If I am following the story correctly, your dad began by cutting Carrie’s neck. Not too deeply, though, at least not at first…” The knife cut into Wren. A graze, then, harder.
“You’re my friend, ” Wren gasped out. She ignored the pain from the cut.
Makayla blinked. “You were the girl who gave me a spot at her lunch table the first day I walked into a new high school.” She smiled at Wren and stopped cutting her. “That was really sweet.”
Wren was afraid to breathe.
“But you know what wasn’t sweet?” Makayla’s face twisted. “When those asshole twin brothers who follow you around like freaking puppies killed the man I loved! When your annoying uncle set a trap for Gregory and they launched an attack, and there was nothing left of him. One minute, Gregory was there, planning for our future, saving money so that we would have enough cash to do whatever we wanted. So I would never, ever have to worry again.” She leaned in close to Wren. “That rich uncle of his turned his nose up at Gregory and at Gregory’s mom—called her an addict. Said she was gonna bring down the family, so he just cut them both off! But Gregory was so smart. So strong. We fell in love and our lives were going to change.” She pulled the knife across Wren’s throat in a long slice. Not deep, just long. One side to the other.
Wren felt the blood slide down her throat. She pressed her lips together to stop a cry of pain from escaping.
“Gregory was running drugs. Guns. Smuggling.” Makayla made the announcement as if she’d just confessed that he was a car salesman. Or an accountant. “So Gregory had some flaws. Who doesn’t? But that interfering Milo saw a deal that he shouldn’t have seen. Nosey jerk. I guess you can take the Fed out of the Bureau, but you can’t take the Bureau out of the bar owner. The dumbass took it upon himself to play hero—along with those prick twins. They took out my Gregory. No one knew that Gregory and I were involved. No one even knew I was there, that I saw every terrible moment that night.” Her nostrils flared. “I saw the man I loved die.”
Wren’s gaze jumped to Tom. A Tom who appeared very dead. “And what was he?”
“Convenient,” Makayla responded. “Far more convenient than I anticipated. To think, I first walked into that bank looking for a loan because I needed cash to pay for a hit.” She finally pulled back the knife.
Wetness coated Wren’s throat. Blood.
“Not like Vander is cheap, and your twins have a reputation. People don’t like going against them, so I had to really make things worth his while.”
Behind her, Vander grunted. “That bastard Jake killed my partner.”
“Your partner…” Wren licked her lips. “He was in the process of killing me. Right here.”
His grip tightened to a painful degree. Then his breath was at her ear as he leaned in and told her, “You were going to be his first. The first time he stepped up and took a life all on his own.” He bit her ear, hard, and she screamed. “You just never forget your first.” Laughing, he let her go. Sauntered around to stand beside Makayla. “But the hero came rushing in to save the day.” He gave a disgusted shake of his head. “And now Colin is gone.”
“Jake is going to rush in again,” Wren said. She ignored the throbbing in her ear and the blood on her neck. “He’ll be here at any moment.”
Makayla laughed. “ Why would he be here? This is a crime scene. Why would a killer come here? Why would anyone bring you back here? Poor, broken-hearted Jake is going to think you were taken far away. Maybe you went out on a boat. Maybe you crossed state lines. He’s not going to know.” More soft laughter. “So, originally, my plan was for you to die. For the men who loved you to find your broken body. But that’s not going to happen. At least, not right away. Because I realized something that would be even more painful.”
“You’re my friend. We had sleepovers in high school! We exchange Christmas presents every year!”
“You’re a crappy gift giver. Spend more, would you?”
Wren’s lips pressed together.
“I took your phone from this scene when you were being rushed away,” Makayla confessed. “I knew your password because your dumb self gave it to me at the bachelorette party when I asked to use it for some pics, remember?” A shake of her head. “I scanned through your texts and emails, and then I called you because I wanted you and Jake to know that this wasn’t over. It won’t be over until you’re gone.”
“Makayla—”
“You’re going to die, Wren. Don’t get me wrong. And it’s going to be extremely painful. But Vander is going to help me hide your body. Eb and Jake and your dear Uncle Milo—they will cling to hope when they don’t find you dead. They’ll think that maybe—just maybe—you’re still alive somewhere. It’s the hope that is the worst part, isn’t it? Over time, that hope will dim. They’ll hurt more. They will slowly break apart. And I will be there to watch.” She sniffed and patted lightly near her eye, as if wiping away a tear. “I’ll make sure I have a great, front row seat.”
“Jake will know you’re involved.”
Makayla’s hand dropped.
Wren’s gaze went straight to that hand. “Problem one is that you still have all your fingers. Doesn’t match with the whole scene you set up so that people would think a Sweetheart Slasher copycat was at work. You actually went a bit too far with that scene, I think.”
“I’m not losing a fucking finger!”
Wren hadn’t thought she would, or else the finger would already have been gone. “The fact that the Sweetheart Slasher cutoff fingers—that part was never released to the general public. What did you do, learn that from digging in Uncle Milo’s files? His life?”
Makayla didn’t speak.
“What did you do? Give yourself a cut somewhere so you could leave all of that blood at your place? Way to take a hit for your plan. But that isn’t good enough, you see. You still have another problem. Problem two is that there is no bad guy. You’re the villain. You’re also acting as the victim. If you turn up, all hysterical and traumatized, who are you going to blame? Tom tased Eb at the bar. Eb knows that Tom lied to him and Jake.”
“And that is what makes Tom the perfect fall guy!” A pleased nod. Makayla smiled broadly. “He’s also not going to be found, you see. How can Tom be found? He took you away. You’ll both disappear tonight.”
Vander glanced at Tom. “I’ll take him out on the water. Cut him up and feed him to some sharks. Or, who knows? Maybe I’ll save myself the bloody work and weigh his body down with something and dump him overboard. What the hell ever.” He seemed utterly unconcerned.
Clearly not his first time to dump a body.
“They will have their villain,” Makayla assured her. “I’ll have my revenge for what they did. And, you know what? Maybe for some extra fun, I’ll hook up with Eb or with Jake. Talk about fucking someone over.”
“I don’t think you’re their type.”
“I honestly thought you were fucking Eb until that scene in the bar with Jake. Imagine my surprise. Though, come on, curious minds want to know…have you fucked them both?”
She gazed at Makayla. Didn’t speak. Just stared as ice slowly worked its way through Wren’s body.
The smug smile on Makayla’s face began to melt away.
“You lost the man you loved,” Wren said. “A man who was a criminal. Who was smuggling—I believe you said drugs and guns? A real charmer, hmm?”
Makayla backed up a step. “It’s easy to be on your high horse, isn’t it? Because you think Eb and Jake are so perfect? They are killers , Wren! But then, I guess you do have a type, don’t you? They say girls fall in love with men just like their fathers. Did you fall for a psychopath, too?”
“I’m staring at a psychopath,” she replied.
Vander laughed. Then caught himself and coughed when Makayla glared at him.
“Sorry,” he said, shrugging. “But she’s not scared, and I like that.”
A frustrated cry broke from Makayla as her attention snapped back to Wren. “ Why aren’t you scared?”
“Because you’re nothing compared to what I’ve already lived through. Because I’m about to get out of this chair and I’m going to take that knife, and I’m going to plunge it into you.”
The knife slipped from Makayla’s hand and clattered to the floor. She instantly bent to pick it up.
“She’s not scared,” Vander murmured. “But you are.”
“Scared of little old me?” Wren asked. She blinked. “Why? Could it be because while you were tearing into my Uncle Milo’s life and making all your discoveries about the Sweetheart Slasher, you came upon some reports about me, too? Maybe some of the psychological profiles that were created when I was a kid who just couldn’t, ah, attach, I believe it was called?”
“Are you like him?” Makayla breathed.
“You’ll find out,” Wren promised. The women stared at each other.
A tear leaked down Makayla’s cheek. A real tear. “I loved him, and I want him back, but he’s gone. Someone has to pay.”
“And that someone gets to be me.”
“It’s all of them! The only way they can hurt is to lose what they love. You are the only thing all three love.”
Jake had said he loved her. The best words she’d ever heard in her entire life. “That’s why they are going to be storming the door any minute.”
“They don’t know where you are!” Makayla swiped away the tear. “They can’t save you when they don’t know!”
“Are you sure about that?” Wren shifted a little bit in the chair. “Are you sure that Eb didn’t fake getting knocked out by Tom? I mean, come on…” Her gaze slid across the floor. Do not shudder. Do not flinch. She’d worn a mask for most of her life, and she could damn well keep up the pretense a bit longer. She could keep acting like she was in control even as a helpless scream bubbled inside of her. “Come on, it’s Tom. You truly think Tom of all people, you think he got the drop on Eb?”
And, for the first time, uncertainty flashed. On both Makayla’s face and on her goon’s face.
“We all knew Tom was lying when he appeared at the bar. Too nervous. Too shaky. So Jake and Eb had the idea to trick him. They talked about it while they were in the back room of Uncle Milo’s bar. Jake only had a moment to give me the details. Said to go along with whatever happened. That they’d be right behind me.” She smiled. “If you look out the windows, I think you might be surprised. Something tells me that they pulled Honey in immediately. Deputy cars probably have surrounded this place. They would have come in silently because Honey would want the element of surprise. While I’ve been talking and distracting you, Jake and Eb had been climbing the steps outside. One of them is about to come bursting in the front door. The other will come in the back door. Either they will kill you both or you will go to prison for the rest of your lives. Either way, you don’t get your vengeance, but I do get away.” There. Done. She’d almost believed her own words.
What she needed—what she desperately needed was a distraction. For one of them—maybe both, please both—to go and look out of the windows. Because then she could break free, grab a weapon, and try attacking. She wasn’t going down without a fight.
They weren’t using her.
Friends didn’t fucking use friends in twisted vengeance games.
“You’re lying,” Makayla rasped.
Wren didn’t deny the charge. She was, of course, lying. And bleeding. She just lifted her brows. “Am I?”
Vander swore. He whirled and stalked toward a nearby window.
So did Makayla. She spun. Hurried to a window.
Vander looked out first. “I don’t see?—”
Tom had made the mistake of duct-taping her hands in front of her. Her Uncle Milo had told her that most criminals would duct-tape you from the front. In one of his many, many safety sessions, he’d told her that, statistically, duct tape was used the most to kidnap people.
Her FBI bad-ass uncle had wanted to make sure that she’d never be kidnapped.
Well, look where I am.
“No one is out there!” Makayla chimed.
She started to back away from the window.
But Vander’s hand flew out and curled around her wrist. “Wait…”
Wren rose to her feet. She lifted her hands in front of her body, then she kept raising them, moving up high above her head until she’d made what Uncle Milo had called a magic triangle. You couldn’t pull apart duct tape from a standard horizontal angle. Uncle Milo had shown her that was too hard.
But if you had the magic triangle…
“Someone is coming!” Vander shoved up the blinds. “Shit!”
Probably just a random car passing down the road. Talk about perfect timing. Wren yanked her hands down from above her head and pulled them apart in the same, swift movement. Uncle Milo had always said that if it didn’t look like she was elbowing someone who’d grabbed her, then she wasn’t doing the move right. By the time her hands were sliding past her hips, she was free. Or at least, her wrists were free.
Wren glanced at her bound feet. Not like she could run far. But running wasn’t necessary, not yet.
“Fucking hell,” Vander snarled. “They’re stopping. One car, two?—”
Wren angled her feet in a V-shape. She shot down to the floor in a squat as fast as she could. That tape gave way. She could have just torn through it with her fingers, but Uncle Milo had been right—the squat was faster. Wren backed away, not making a sound as she headed for the kitchen. Uncle Milo kept a knife block set in his kitchen. His blades were always wicked sharp. Wren was uncomfortably aware that the knife Makayla had used on her had come from that kitchen block. She’d recognized her uncle’s beloved eight-inch chef knife.
“They can’t be here!” Makayla cried out.
“I’m not going down. Been to prison too many times already!” Vander twisted around. “What—where is the bitch?”
The bitch had made it to the kitchen. Wren heard his thundering footsteps behind her. She stretched for the block that waited on the counter. Her fingers almost reached it.
His hands locked around her waist. He hauled her back.
But she’d managed to grab one item from the block. Not the knife, though. The scissors that Uncle Milo kept nestled in the base of the block. She shoved her fingers through the open holes in the handle of those scissors—freaking ‘comfort grip’ as Uncle Milo had once proudly boasted—and she drove the sharp edge of the closed scissors into one of the hands that had grabbed her.
Vander let her go with a roar of pain. She spun around and she raised up the scissors in one fist. Wren plunged those scissors down at him even as he lifted his hands to try and block the attack.
“No fear!” Vander shouted, and he was shaking his head. “Fuck, yeah!”
Oh, she had plenty of fear. She just wasn’t letting it stop her.
“Sorry, baby,” he said right before he slammed his body into hers and they went flying to the floor. “Gonna be a shame to kill you.” He grabbed her hand—the one that still clutched the scissors—and twisted. She knew he was going to break her fingers. She also knew she wasn’t going to drop the only weapon she had.
Wren slammed her forehead into his. Or, that had been her intent. But the front door—a door Jake had previously broken and that had not been thoroughly fixed by the cops—came hurtling inward. The door thudded into the wall and Vander’s head whipped to the right at the sound.
“Shit!” Vander snarled as Jake rushed into the beach house.
Jake’s eyes locked on him. “Get the fuck away from her!” Jake. Big. Strong. Scary Hot. Wearing a bulletproof vest and with his gun locked in his hand. “Get away from Wren now !”
“No, man, I was paid to kill her. I always get the job?—”
Boom. The gunshot didn’t explode from Jake’s gun. Instead, it had come from the left—from the back door that hadn’t blown open with a crash. Even as Vander’s body slumped to the side, Wren was wrenching her head toward the back door so she could see who’d just fired.
Uncle Milo had come in through that door. Opened it soundlessly. Jake had been his distraction, Wren realized.
“He told you to get the fuck away from my niece,” Uncle Milo bellowed.
Vander growled. A guttural cry.
Wren scrambled away from him, doing a backwards crab walk even as her right hand clung tightly to the scissors.
Vander yanked at the gun near his waist, and he brought that gun up in a swinging arc toward Uncle Milo.
More gunshots. Two of them. Three? Four?
Wren crouched beside the counter in the kitchen. She was pretty sure that both Jake and Milo had both fired to take out the hitman. Vander’s body twitched and blood spattered around him. His gun now lay a few feet from his outstretched hand.
“Wren!” Jake shouted her name.
She began to scramble upward. “Jake?—”
But before Wren could get fully upright, Makayla grabbed her. Makayla fisted her hand in Wren’s hair even as she put the chef’s knife and its bloody blade against Wren’s neck.
“No!” Makayla screamed back at Jake. “You don’t get to save her! You don’t get to rush in here and play the hero and go off and live happily ever after while my Gregory is gone !” The blade cut deeper.
Wren brought her scissors closer to her body. On her knees, she watched as Jake and Milo closed in. Both men kept their weapons up.
Eb and Hunter were right behind them.
And…
“ What in the hell is happening here?” Honey demanded as she rushed inside. “You idiots were supposed to wait for?—”
“Everyone out!” Makayla’s scream cut through Honey’s words. “Out or I slit her throat right now!”
“You already have slit her throat,” Jake responded, voice flat. “She needs medical care.”
The wound wasn’t that deep. Not yet.
“She’s going to need a body bag unless everyone gets out!” Makayla screeched. “Now!”
Honey touched Eb, then Hunter. “Get out,” she ordered.
They hesitated.
“ Out,” Honey snapped.
They backed out. But Eb’s expression showed his fury.
Honey sidled between Jake and Uncle Milo. “Milo…” An exhale from Honey. “I want you to step outside. You are a civilian. I can handle this scene.”
“She’s my niece.” He did not lower his weapon. “And we both know that if we leave them alone, the first thing Makayla will do is kill Wren.”
“You don’t know that.” Makayla’s fist yanked back Wren’s hair and head. The knife cut deeper. “I could decide to make a deal. But I won’t deal if you don’t get the hell out!”
Uncle Milo didn’t move. Wren could see the struggle on his face.
“Shoot me,” Makayla dared. “Bet I slice deep enough that she dies before you kill me. Bet you’ll be the one shoving your hands over her throat and trying to stop all that blood, just like Wren did with Carrie all those years ago. And the result will be the same. Death. How does that feel, Milo? You feeling helpless enough? Do you hate what’s happening? Do you wish you hadn’t ever killed Gregory on that stupid boat?” A screech that hurt Wren’s ears.
“Kill me,” Uncle Milo said. He put down his gun. Held up his hands. “Wren had nothing to do with that.”
“She had everything to do with it. Everything. She’s the domino that made my life fall apart. If you hadn’t adopted her, if you hadn’t met her, saved her, then you would never have been in Hilton Head. You never would have settled down and tried to be a family man. Honey wouldn’t be here because your lover wouldn’t have followed you. Eb and Jake? Like they’d give two shits about this town if she wasn’t here. The only reason everyone is here—it’s Wren. She’s the one who made you all line up. Who got any of you bastards to ever pretend you were good. Because of her, Gregory is dead!”
Uncle Milo took a step back. “I’m leaving.” His gaze swept to Wren’s face. “You are not your father.”
Oh, he was wrong. “I am my father’s daughter.” A husky rasp because of the growing agony in her throat.
Pain flashed on his face. A pain that got worse when his gaze fell to her throat.
Honey shoved him back. “Leave! Now! Do you want to watch her die?”
He retreated.
Wren wanted to shake her head. To tell him to stay. The only end game here? It would be her death.
“Go,” Honey told Jake.
“You’ll have to shoot me and drag my ass out,” Jake said. He still had his weapon aimed. “There is no world where I leave Wren to die. There is no world where I ever leave Wren.”
“Get out, Honey.” Makayla wasn’t screeching any longer. Instead, she sounded far too pleased. “Go call in some real Feds. You don’t know how to handle business these days. They’ll negotiate with me. I’m sure her life is worth so much…”
Honey retreated one step. Then another. But she didn’t leave. Her hand went to her hip. To the holster.
“Worth so very much to the right person,” Makayla finished. “Are you that right person, Jake? Tell me, what would you give if Wren could survive?”
“I’d give anything,” he replied instantly.
“Because you love her.”
“ Yes. ”
Makayla laughed with what sounded like real joy. “That’s why I sent the messages to Eb, you see. Had to get some asshole tech kid to help so I couldn’t be traced…but it’s worth so much more when you know that you’re going to lose what you love. When you know the pain is coming. I wanted to watch you and Eb try and stop it, but you can’t…He can’t. You’re both helpless. Just like I was helpless the night Gregory died.”
“He fired at us,” Jake bit out. “He wouldn’t surrender. He just kept shooting.”
“You killed him! Now you’re right in front of me, holding a gun…but you can’t do a damn thing.”
Wren angled the scissors. She looked down. Saw Makayla’s bare foot. With Wren still on her knees, Makayla’s foot was just inches away.
“Her father thought love was a lie. I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we prove to Wren how wrong her father was? I want you to turn that gun of yours, and I want you to shoot yourself. Prove that you would do anything, even die?—”
Wren drove the scissors into the top of Makayla’s foot.
Makayla screamed. But she let go of Wren’s hair. Let go of her hair even as the blade sliced?—
Wren threw her whole body back to get away from that blade. She rammed into Makayla, took her down, and even as they fell, Wren twisted. She drove the scissors into her friend. Over and over.
“ Wren!” Jake grabbed her. Pulled her back. Shoved her behind him.
Makayla lunged up with her knife.
Jake fired. Pretty much dead center on Makayla’s chest.
Jake doesn’t have to die in order to prove he loves me.
The man had already killed to prove that fact to her.
And he’d just done it…again?
Makayla’s head made a horrible cracking sound when it slammed into the tile floor of the kitchen. Floor that Uncle Milo had painstaking placed just last summer. Blood poured from the bullet wound. From all the puncture wounds from the scissors.
Wren crawled forward.
“No!” Honey slapped a hand on Wren’s shoulder. “Don’t get near her!”
But Makayla wasn’t a threat any longer.
Honey kicked the knife away. She grabbed her radio and called for backup. Only the backup was already there. Eb and Hunter and Milo hadn’t gone far. They’d just circled around to come in again through windows.
They’d been waiting for their moment to attack. Like Wren hadn’t known that they would all find a way back inside to help.
They loved her. Love was real. Love was something worth fighting for.
Even Makayla had loved, in her way.
“Wren, baby.” Honey crouched before her. Put her hand over Wren’s throat. “You’re going to be all right.”
Yes, she was. She tried to talk. “J-Jake…” Wait, did any sound emerge? Had she been able to say his name?
There was so much blood everywhere.
“You are gonna be all right, my sweet girl,” Honey promised. There were tears in Honey’s eyes. But Honey never cried. Never. Honey’s hand pressed harder to Wren’s throat.
So much blood. Everywhere. Wren could feel it covering her skin. Soaking her. Just like it had so long ago. Dizziness had her head spinning.
“Jake is right here. You stay with me, you understand?” Honey’s voice shook. “Milo, get that stretcher up here!”
Then Jake was there. Right in front of Wren. Staring at her with a face that looked far too haggard. With fear surging in his eyes and with lines on his face that should not be there. “Wren…” Jake said her name like a prayer.
She was going to pass out. She knew it. The past and present were colliding. Blood was everywhere. Her fingers. Her arms. Her face. She could feel the stickiness on her skin, and it absolutely horrified her. She wanted it gone, gone, gone but she had to just sit there.
“Wren, God, don’t you dare leave me,” Jake ordered.
Jake and his orders.
“Where you go, I go,” he snarled. “You remember that. Always. And I don’t think heaven wants me yet. I need to redeem the shit out of my soul before they’ll let me get past the pearly gates. And there is no way I’d ever drag you down to hell with me.”
She was sliding down. Falling.
Or had she been down on the floor the whole time? Wren just knew she was staring up at Jake. He’d put his hands over Honey’s. They were both trying to help her.
“Angel, don’t go anywhere.”
Wait, was that Jake’s voice? Or was it her father’s? “No…wings…” Again, she didn’t know if the words emerged. Or if her throat was too damaged.
“You don’t need wings. Baby, please… ”
Her eyes fluttered. She didn’t hurt. That was probably good. Or was it bad? But there was something she had to tell him. Carrie had tried to get out one final word. Right at the end. She’d cried out for the person who mattered most.
Wren’s father had been so wrong. People did love. They did fight.
“I…love you…” Wren said. Or tried to say. “Love…Jake.”
He didn’t let her go.
Wren’s blood covered his hands. His clothes.
The EMTs took her from the beach house. Loaded her into the ambulance.
Jake did not leave her. He did not stop holding her neck. Did not stop applying pressure. He got in the vehicle with her. Rode with her as the siren wailed and fear blasted through every part of his body.
His beautiful Wren was too pale. No color in her cheeks. No color at all except for the stark red that stained her neck.
He could hear the terror in Hayden’s voice. The EMT knew how close to death Wren was.
Too much blood loss.
Too fast.
Wren, baby, please…I need you.
The siren wailed so loudly. They hit a massive pothole. The whole vehicle bounced. Fuck!
Wren’s eyes opened.
For just a moment, she stared straight at him.
“I love you,” he told her.
And his Wren…she smiled at him.