55. Zoey
ZOEY
I paced the living room, my heart racing as I waited for news. Noah’s father’s phone rang, and he answered, his expression going from tense to grim.
“It’s over. George is dead,” he said heavily.
My knees gave out, and I sank to the floor. It was finally over. George could never hurt me or anyone else again.
But then Christian’s face fell.
“What is it?” Angela asked anxiously.
“Noah’s been shot. They’re taking him to the hospital now.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. I couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be happening. Not Noah.
Please, please, don’t take him from me.
Christian crouched beside me and gripped my shoulders. “Zoey, look at me. Noah’s going to be okay. It’s not like last time. The bullet went straight through. He’s strong. But we need to go—now.”
Numbly, I let him pull me to my feet. Angela wrapped an arm around me as we hurried out to the car. Ro was with Sam, Heather, and my mom, so at least I didn’t have to worry about him.
The drive to the hospital was the longest of my life. I sat in the back, twisting my fingers together as I prayed over and over.
“Please let him be okay,” I begged. “I can’t lose him. Please, please?—”
Angela reached back and squeezed my knee. “Christian said he’s not badly hurt. He wouldn’t lie, not about this. He’ll pull through, honey. Have faith.”
But I couldn’t stop the sickening dread curling in my stomach. What if the damage was worse than they’d told his dad over the phone, or Noah didn’t know how badly hurt he was? I couldn’t bear the thought of a future without Noah in it.
“Drive faster,” I begged Christian.
He looked at me in the rearview mirror, jaw clenched. “We’re almost there. Just hold on.”
I pictured Noah’s face. His crooked smile, his laugh. “Stay with me,” I whispered. “Don’t you dare leave me, Noah Alexander.”
I could only pray that he heard me, that he would fight to come back to me. Because a world without him in it was unimaginable. I needed him more than I needed air.
I kept praying the entire way, bargaining with God and the universe to spare the man I loved more than life. “Please, please, please...”
We rushed into the hospital right to the front desk.
“Noah Alexander. He was brought in with a gunshot wound. Where is he? Is he okay?” My words tumbled out in a desperate plea.
The nurse gave me a sympathetic look. “He’s in surgery right now. That’s all I can tell you at the moment. Please have a seat in the waiting area, and the doctor will be out to update you as soon as possible.”
Surgery. The word hit me like a punch to the gut. I stumbled back, legs threatening to give out, but Christian caught me.
“Come on, let’s sit down.” He guided me to a chair, and I collapsed into it.
“You said it went straight through, that he’d be fine. Surgery isn’t fine,” I whispered. Like a snake, fear slithered deeper into my mind, spreading its insidious thoughts.
Angela rubbed my back soothingly. “He’s in good hands. The doctors here are top-notch.”
I nodded numbly, not trusting myself to speak. The logical part of me knew she was right. But the other part, the part ruled by my heart, couldn’t stop the sheer terror gripping me.
The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness as we waited. And waited. I alternated between silently begging any higher power listening to save Noah and succumbing to the awful scenarios playing out in my mind.
I was almost certain George would have used a silver bullet. The same silver that was poison to shifters. Even if it went straight through, if it had left even the smallest sliver behind, it could?—
I curled my fingers into my palms, nails biting into skin. No, I couldn’t think like that. Noah was strong. A fighter. He would beat this. He had to.
“Zoey?” A familiar voice snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. I looked up to see Chief Warman walking toward me.
I stood on shaky legs. “Chief. What are you doing here?”
He removed his hat, holding it between his hands. “I came as soon as I heard about the shooting. I’m so sorry. How is Noah doing?”
A sob caught in my throat. “He’s in surgery. We haven’t heard anything more. God, this is all my fault...”
“No.” Warman was firm. “This is on George and George alone. You are not to blame for the actions of that twisted man.”
I swiped at my wet cheeks. The chief was right—I knew that deep down—but it was hard not to feel responsible when the man I loved was fighting for his life because of me.
Warman hesitated. “I know this isn’t the best time, but there are some things we need to discuss regarding George’s body. Maybe it’ll take your mind off the waiting?”
My stomach twisted. “What about it?” I managed.
“We need to know if there will be anyone to claim the body. Does he have any family to handle the arrangements? If not, the state will take care of it.”
I shook my head. “No, he doesn’t have anyone. His parents died years ago, and he was an only child.”
Warman nodded. “All right. In that case, the state will?—”
“I want to see him,” I said, surprising myself.
Warman frowned. “Zoey, I really don’t think that’s a good idea. After everything he put you through?—”
“I need to see him. Please.” My hands trembled, but I clenched them into fists. “I need to know that it’s real. That he’s really gone.”
Warman sighed heavily. “All right. He was brought here. I’ll take you down to the morgue. I’ll be right there with you, okay?”
I nodded, then looked at Christian and Angela. “I’ve got my phone. Call me if they come out and tell you anything.”
Angela squeezed my hand. “Of course we will. Go say goodbye and get some closure.”
The morgue was cold and sterile, the harsh fluorescent lights making everything surreal. Warman spoke quietly to the attendant, who pulled out a drawer. I steeled myself as I approached, my breath catching as the attendant pulled back the sheet.
There he was. George. The man who had terrorized me for years and reduced me to a lifeless shell. I stared at his face, waiting for him to sit up and lunge at me like in so many of my nightmares.
But he remained still, his eyes closed, his skin pale and waxy.
“Is this him?” Warman asked gently.
I nodded, unable to tear my gaze away. “It’s him,” I whispered. “It’s really over.”
Warman patted my back. “He can’t hurt you or anyone else ever again. You’re safe now.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks as the reality sank in. George was dead. I was free. But the cost... I thought of Noah fighting for his life, and a sob tore from my throat.
Nausea roiled in my stomach as I stared down at George’s lifeless body. The reality of everything he had put me through, the years of abuse and torment, hit me like a tsunami. But beneath the pain and revulsion, a small flicker of relief sparked to life. He could never hurt me or my son ever again.
“You took so much from me,” I whispered. “My sense of safety, my self-worth, my ability to trust. You nearly destroyed me.”
The tears came then, hot and unbidden, spilling down my cheeks. I didn’t bother to wipe them away. Let him see. Let him know the depth of the scars he had left on my soul.
“But you didn’t break me,” I said. “I survived. I got away. And now... now you’re gone.
And I’m still here.” I leaned closer, my face inches from his.
“I hope you rot in hell, you bastard. And if Noah doesn’t make it, I swear on all that is holy that I will curse your soul to the deepest, darkest pit of damnation for all eternity. ”
With that, I straightened and turned on my heel, striding out of the morgue. “The state can have him,” I told Warman. “I don’t care where they bury him or what they do with his body. I’m done with him. Forever.”
Warman nodded. “I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”
I took a deep breath, the heaviness that had been a constant presence in my chest over the years finally easing. George was my past. It was time to leave him behind and focus on my future. On Noah. On our life together.
With a final nod to Warman, I got on the elevator, my head held high. I was free. Truly, finally free.
The elevator doors opened with a ding, and I stepped out onto the floor, my heart racing. Christian and Angela were waiting for me, worry clouding their eyes.
I stumbled. “How is he? Is he okay?”
Christian reached out to steady me. “I was just about to call you. There’s no silver. They’re taking him up to his room now. The doctors say he’s going to be all right.”
My knees buckled, and I swayed, the room spinning around me. Christian’s strong arms caught me, holding me upright.
“Whoa, easy there.” He guided me to a nearby chair. “It’s been a hell of a night. You need to sit down.”
I sank into the seat, my head in my hands. “I can’t believe it’s finally over. That he’s really gone.”
Angela sat beside me, rubbing soothing circles on my back. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’re safe now. Noah’s safe. That’s all that matters.”
I couldn’t fall apart. Not yet. Not until I saw Noah with my own eyes.
“Can I see him?” I asked.
Christian glanced at Angela. “They’re only allowing two visitors at a time.”
Angela squeezed my hand. “Why don’t you let Christian and me go in first? Just for a few minutes. Then you can have some time alone with him.”
I wanted to protest, but his parents needed to see for themselves that their only living son was okay. So I swallowed past the lump in my throat and nodded.
As they disappeared down the hallway, I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. The adrenaline was fading, leaving me drained and exhausted.
Images flashed through my mind. George’s lifeless body. Noah’s blood on my hands. Ro’s terrified face when I left him with Sam.
Another sob tore out of me, and I pressed my fist to my mouth, trying to muffle the sound. But the tears came anyway, hot and fast, spilling down my cheeks.
All those years of abuse and torment. The scars on my body and soul. The childhood that was stolen from Ro.
But most of all, I cried from sheer, overwhelming relief. It was over. George was dead. Noah was alive. We had survived.
I dared to hope for a future. A future with Noah by my side, loving me, protecting me. A future where I was free to be myself, without fear or shame.
I wiped my eyes, taking a shuddering breath. The tears had washed away the last of my doubts and fears. I was ready. Ready to face whatever lay ahead. Ready to fight for the life I wanted.
For the life I deserved.