Chapter 16 #2
The sirens are louder now, maybe a minute away. People are still swarming around us trying to help, but nobody can get her out. The driver’s side is completely crushed, and the passenger side is wedged against the light pole.
She’s trapped.
My hands are covered in blood. I’m unsure if it’s hers or mine. I wipe them on my jeans, but they’re still unsteady.
“Come on, Lily. Stay with me. Forget everything and remember how much I love you.”
An ambulance screams around the corner with its lights flashing. A fire truck is right behind it. Help is here. She’s gonna be okay. She has to be.
But what did she mean about a baby?
The paramedics rush over with equipment, assessing the situation. One of them, a woman with kind eyes, places her arm in front of my sternum and pushes me away.
“Sir, we need you to step back so we can work.”
“I’m not leaving her.”
“You need to give us space.” She gives me a quick once-over. “Are you injured?”
I glance down at my hands. Blood from the glass cuts is present, but nothing serious. “I’m fine.”
“Sir—”
“I said I’m fine!” My voice breaks and I point to Livianna. “Focus on her.”
The paramedic’s expression softens. “What’s her name?”
“Livianna. Livianna Hemings.”
She nods and rushes toward the car, talking to Livianna in a calm, steady voice. Another worker is trying to pry the door open with hydraulic tools. The fire truck crew joins them, bringing more equipment.
I step back, but I don’t go far. Just far enough to let them do their job. My eyes never leave Livianna’s face, pale and bloodied through the wreckage.
Her words echo in my head. The baby.
Is she pregnant? Is that what the panic attack was about? Is that why she’s been so scared?
And if she is pregnant, whose kid is it?
The question lands like a punch right between the eyes.
We haven’t slept together. Hell, we haven’t done anything more than kiss. Which means if she’s pregnant, it’s not mine.
It’s his. My King. Whoever the fuck that is.
“Fuck!” I spin away and grab hold of my hair.
The realization hits hard. I’ve lost her. I’ve lost the love of my life. The only woman I’ll ever love, I’ve lost her again.
That can’t matter right now. Livianna needs me. She needs some hope to get her through this. My heart thuds against my ribs as I turn and look on with devastation seeping out of every pore I have.
The paramedics finally get the door open with a screech of metal. They’re careful now as they stabilize her neck, check her vitals, and prepare to move her.
One of them is talking into a radio using some medical jargon I don’t understand. I watch it all happen like I’m outside my body. It’s like this is happening to someone else.
The woman I love is being extracted from a crushed car with blood on her face and a baby… Someone else’s child is growing inside her belly.
They lift her onto a backboard and secure her with precision. Her eyes are still closed. She’s limp, but still.
“Is she...?” I can’t finish the question.
The kind-eyed paramedic addresses me. “She’s stable for now. Are you family?”
“I’m…” What am I? Her ex? Her maybe-boyfriend? The guy who’s been desperately trying to win her back while she’s apparently pregnant with another man’s kid? “I’m the closest thing she’s got right now.”
“You can meet us at the hospital.” She tells me which one.
They load her into the ambulance. The doors close, and the vehicle pulls away with its lights flashing and sirens wailing.
I’m alone in the middle of the road with a crowd of strangers, a totaled car, and a thousand questions I don’t have answers to.
I raise my chin to the sky. Golden light rays filter through scattered clouds.
“For once,” I whisper, “be on my side and save her. I’ll do anything you want if you let her live. Just please don’t take her away from me.”
Somewhere in the distance, the sirens fade.
A police officer approaches me, clipboard in hand. “Sir, I need to get your statement about what happened.”
I stare at him, my brain still struggling to catch up with reality. “Statement?”
“You witnessed the accident. I need details.” His tone is professional but not unkind. “The black SUV that fled the scene, did you get a look at the driver?”
The man who did this and then drove away like Livianna’s life didn’t matter.
“Yeah, I saw him. He had dark hair. I’d say he was around forty, maybe a little older.” My head swims in a surreal daze.
“Anything else you want to add?”
“The SUV didn’t have a license plate. It was a newer model, black. It could’ve been a Chevy Tahoe or something similar. The front was pretty messed up after he hit her.”
The officer writes quickly. “Did you notice anything else? Any distinguishing features on the vehicle or the driver?”
I close my eyes, trying to pull the image back. It happened so fast, but I force myself to remember.
“The windows were really dark, heavily tinted. I couldn’t see if there was anyone else inside with him.” I pause, my stomach twisting. “He looked directly at me before he drove off. It was like he knew exactly what he was doing.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, it didn’t look like he was panicking or scared. It looked calculated and deliberate. Like he was making sure I saw him before he left the scene.”
The officer’s pen stops moving. “Are you saying you think this was intentional?”
Was it?
The SUV came barreling through that intersection, driving way too fast for this area. There was no attempt to brake before the impact. And then the way the driver stared at me with that cold, assessing glare before he peeled out.
“I don’t know for sure.” I drag my hand through my hair. “But something about it felt wrong. It didn’t feel like an accident.”
The officer nods and continues writing. “What’s your relationship to the victim?”
Victim. The word makes acid rise in my throat.
“She’s important to me. We’re close.” I can’t bring myself to explain more than that because I don’t actually know what we are anymore.
“I’ll need your contact information in case we have follow-up questions.”
I give him my number with a growing unease creeping through me. He tells me I should take her valuables out of her car and hands me a card with a case number printed on it.
“Mr. Mayze, if you remember anything else, no matter how small, call this number.” He strides away.
I’m left standing there with emergency vehicles. Their reds and blues still flash around me. The smell of burnt rubber and gasoline is thick in the air, making me nauseous.
Livianna’s car sits crumpled against the light pole, a twisted mass of metal that used to be sleek and beautiful. Shattered glass sparkles across the asphalt like it’s showing off the destruction.
I move in slow motion, retrieve her purse, and check for anything else she might need. Once I’m sure I have everything, I rush to my car to leave for the hospital.
Her phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out with shaking hands. It’s another text.
My King: I’m at the house. When do you think you’ll be here?
My jaw clenches. This man, whoever the hell he is, has no idea what just happened.
He has no idea that while he was sitting there waiting for her, she was being cut out of her mangled car with blood streaming down her face and his child growing in her stomach.
I should text him back and tell him there’s been an accident. He should know she’s on her way to the hospital and might not make it.
But I don’t.
Instead, I shove the phone back in my pocket, climb into my car, and pull onto the road heading toward the hospital.
Because I meant every word I said to that paramedic. I’m the closest thing to family she’s got right now. And I’m not leaving her to face this alone.
As I speed away, I’m left with one thought.
What if I just lost everything that matters?
Again.