CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Ella
P ain. Blood. Fury.
My skin burns from the laser. All I do is cry.
Wes and this so-called doctor argued over giving me the topical anesthetic. Wes told him I cheated on him and was carrying bastard twins. I didn’t get any.
The doctor also told him it would take several treatments to fully remove the tattoos, but Wes paid him enough to accelerate the strength of the laser and finish today.
My skin is peeling away, bubbling up like a volcano. But it’s not lava that oozes from each of the wound sites. It’s blood. My blood.
“I’m pregnant, you bastard! Won’t this amount of extreme pain and strain on my system cause me to miscarry?”
The doctor looks at me feebly and says, “It depends.”
“On what?” I snap.
“The strength of the fetus.”
I’m carrying an O’Rourke. Two. I pray that means they should be fine.
Should...
Otherwise, Wesley will figure out another way to torture me and kill my babies.
I haven’t given up hope that their father will save us...