Chapter 46
Ella
The sound of running water draws me to the kitchen. Hunter is standing at the sink, washing his hands, and I place down the book I’ve been trying to read since Gable left; none of the words have gone into my brain at all.
“Hey, have you seen my phone?” I ask.
He keeps his back to me as he answers. “Nope. Could it be in Gable’s room?”
“No, I’ve checked there.” I take a seat at the kitchen island. “Where’s Monty?”
“Sleeping, I think.” He turns off the faucet and picks up a kitchen towel to dry his hands as he faces me. “How’s the book?”
“No clue. I didn’t get past the first page.”
He smiles. “Worried about him?” I nod, and he rests his forearms against the island, clasping his hands together.
His light blue eyes focus on my face, and I get that familiar feeling that he’s pulling me to pieces in his mind.
After the things I said earlier, I wouldn’t be surprised if he is. I didn’t exactly hold back.
But Gable’s story had stuck with me for so many reasons, one of which was that Hunter took advantage. He should have done more for them. They had options, and he stole futures they could’ve had.
“You were right,” Hunter says, keeping his gaze locked on mine. “What you said earlier, you were right on the money … and I regret every day that I turned them into monsters.”
“Not monsters,” I say, swallowing down my guilt at the hurt in his voice. “They just could have been … more.”
He nods and straightens before rounding the island and standing close. Closer than he ever has before.
“You’re a good woman, Ella.” He cups my cheek, and the closeness has alarm bells going off in my head.
I force a smile. “I just care about Gable.”
“Like you cared about Asher?” He runs his thumb across my jaw, and I want to turn my face away, but the words hurt and anger me.
“How I felt about Asher—”
He kisses me.
I almost jolt back in my chair trying to get away from him and wipe the back of my hand over my mouth. “What are you doing!”
“I’m sorry … did I misread this situation?” he asks, his innocence so completely false that I take a step back.
“I’m dating your son!”
“And you also dated his brother,” he says, as if I need the reminder. He steps closer to me, and my heart beats violently in my chest, the taste of him still on my lips. “I just want to see what has my sons risking everything. What is it about you, Ella?”
“You need to back off,” I say, holding up my hand as I keep space between us, but he advances.
I cry out when he seizes both my wrists and yanks me close. Such fury radiates from his expression that I hold my breath, my eyes widening as I gape up at him.
“It was supposed to be you,” he whispers with such vitriol, his jaw tight, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I didn’t know he was with you.”
Like ice-cold water, realization slides across my skin, chilling and stopping my heart.
He killed Asher.
My lips part and I shake my head. “No.”
A tear falls down his cheek. “It’s your fucking fault.”
I yank my wrists free—and I run. I burst into the lobby and go for the front door, twisting and pulling at the handle, but it’s locked. I press my back to it, my breath coming in quick, sharp pants.
“Monty!” I scream.
I break into a run, but Hunter doesn’t pursue, and I know why. I try doors, windows, but none of them budge. The walls seem to close in as I sprint down hallways, throwing open bedroom doors and tugging uselessly on patio doors and window locks.
I’m trapped.
But I won’t give up. I can’t.
My bare feet slap against hardwood floors as I shove open doors to a small ballroom. Windows and a set of patio doors are on the far side, but before I can get to them, I slip.
My hip hits the ground and pain smashes through me. In the blue-black darkness, my eyes adjust to the liquid spreading through my jeans, and the body beside me.
“Monty,” I whisper, my voice cracking, touching her face. She’s not moving, a puddle of blood spread around her.
“Ella!” Hunter shouts, his voice echoing from another part of the house. “There’s nowhere to go!”
I scramble to my feet, my toes slipping in Monty’s blood, and I barely hold back a sob as I throw myself into the patio doors. They’re locked, but I ram my shoulder into them, cursing as they rattle but don’t open.
My fingers slip on the handle, blood staining the brass as I yank on them uselessly.
I can’t give up.
I won’t give up.
I just have to outrun him until Gable—
A small gasp is all I manage as hot pain slices through my back. I slump against the door, a sickening, wet sound assaulting my ears as Hunter pulls the knife out and plunges it back in.
Warm blood spills across my skin, and I pant into the doors, the glass fogging with every breath.
My final breaths.
Hunter tugs my back to his chest and pushes the knife into my abdomen.
The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Nausea rolls through my stomach, and my skin feels painfully hot, even though my fingers feel close to numb.
My head drops back against Hunter’s shoulder, and I stare at the painted ceiling. Pretty clouds and dancing angels are blurred by tears and darkness in the edges of my vision. My jeans are wet, blood pooling at my feet, and I think about my dad.
About Gable.
About a life I’ll never have.
A tear falls down my cheek and into my hair.
“I’ll look after him,” Hunter whispers into my ear. “He’ll always have me.”
I hear a small click. A lock turning. The patio doors squeak as he pushes them open, snow and cold drifting into the room and tickling my toes. The next breath I take is bitter, and Hunter releases me.
My knees hit the floor, and I fall onto the patio.
The paving is smooth against my cheek.
Ella. Don’t give up, honey.
I blink slow, watching the snow touch the ground beside me.
I can’t fight him.
Just keep going.
Where?
Anywhere but here.
My hand shakes as I reach out and plant my palm against the patio. I drag myself forward, the pain knocking me dizzy, like hot spikes plunging into my skin.
That’s it. Keep going.
Sometimes all I grab is snow, but I don’t stop.
I pull myself, my body the heaviest it’s ever felt.
Even when my fingers go numb.
Even when the temptation to sleep is overwhelming.
I hear a ringing phone, then Gable’s voicemail. “Leave a message.”
“Gable,” Hunter rushes out. “Why aren’t you picking up? Someone’s in the house. I think they got in through the patio doors … I can’t find Ella.”
I try to scream. To speak. To make any sound. But my throat is dry, and the most I can do is breathe.
“Please get home as fast as you can.”
He must hang up, because a hand grips my shoulder and he flips me onto my back.
Standing over me, he cleans the handle of the knife, then tosses it back into the ballroom. He’s blurring, fading away.
I can’t feel the snow anymore.
But I see him take out a gun.
I’m thrown back to Asher’s death. To a gun in my face, to accepting my death.
But I don’t want to die anymore.
I want to live.
I want Gable to rescue me like he did that night.
I want Gable.
I want my life with him.
But he isn’t coming.
And he’ll never know who did this to me.
Hunter points the gun at me. “This is for my son.”
This time, I don’t close my eyes. I’ll look my killer in the eye, and I’ll make him remember my face and what he did.
I hope I haunt him.
I hope I haunt him until the day he—
A flash of silver.
A spit of blood.
Then, rivets of red gush down Hunter’s front.
His throat is sliced open, and his eyes widen as his hands fly to his wound. I watch, unable to move, as Hunter falls back and finally collapses.
Monty is behind him, knife in hand, her other hand pressed to her bleeding belly. She’s coated in blood and panting, her face frighteningly pale.
“Always … go for the throat … you fucker.” She spits on Hunter, then drags herself closer before falling beside me. Her breathing is short. Her green eyes half closed. She winces as she moves onto her side and takes my hand. “They’re coming, Bambi.”
It’s quiet.
Snow falls but doesn’t seem to touch my face.
Twists of pretty flakes float closer but vanish before they can cool my skin. The dark sky is heavy with gray, but I think I look beyond it.
Monty squeezes my fingers. “Don’t … don’t sleep.”
But I’m so tired, and I think I hear music.
Singing.
And a steady thrum.
My heartbeat in my ears.
I never noticed it before, not really. The muscle in my chest that gives me life.
Slowing.
Monty’s hand relaxes.
Slips from mine.
I think I say her name. Her eyes are closed. Her lips parted.
Tears burn my eyes, and I want to shake her awake. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to die like this. I don’t want her to die, either.
The music starts again.
A glow, too.
A phone in Monty’s pocket.
Pain stabs into my stomach as I reach for it.
Gable’s name flashes on the screen.
A smudge of blood smears across the screen as I answer.
“Monty! Where are you? Where’s Ella?”
His voice makes me smile. I see his face, feel his hands, smell the lemon on his skin.
“Gable.”
He pauses. “Ella?”
The clouds are gone.
I think …
“I see stars,” I whisper.
And I wish.
I wish.
I