Chapter 73
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
LOLA
The shouting has gotten progressively louder. Reese’s voice slices through me. “This is insane! This is a child, Beau! A fucking child! Hunter will—”
“Hunter will do what I tell him to do when I have his wife and his son.” Beau’s voice is completely void of emotion.
A crash happens first, followed by more glass shattering.
“Don’t touch me!” Reese screams.
A thud. They’re fighting. Which is good. It’s buying me time.
“Wyatt,” I whisper. “How are you doing back there?”
“Nearly done.”
My body is almost vibrating with adrenaline. I feel my first wrist get untied as it flops down. I shake it out as Wyatt’s tiny fingers work the right wrist.
Seconds feel like hours. But he does it. My boy gets my wrists free.
“Good job, Wyatt,” I tell him.
Another nod. His lip is trembling, but his eyes are locked on mine.
The fight in the kitchen is getting louder. More desperate. Something else shatters. I hear Reese shouting words I can’t make out.
This is my chance to save Wyatt. That is all I care about now.
I look down at my wrists. My hands are slick with blood from where I’ve been pulling.
He reaches for me immediately, and I pull him against my chest. “Okay. You’re okay.” I press my lips against his hair. “We’re going to go now. Very quiet. Like mice. Can you do that?” I tell him as I lift him into my arms.
He nods against my neck.
I head over to the sash window behind the couch as lightly as I can. It’s old and wooden. I push it up. It sticks. I shove harder, and it screams on its runners.
I freeze.
The fighting in the kitchen stops.
Silence.
My heart is in my throat.
I grab Wyatt, lift him to the window, and push him through. He lands on the ground outside with a soft thud. And it’s like I can finally breathe again. “Run,” I choke out. “Run and don’t stop. Find a road. Find a person. Tell them your name is Wyatt Sterling and your daddy’s phone number is—”
I recite Hunter’s number. The one I’ve memorized. The one burned into my brain.
Wyatt stares up at me through the window with those blue eyes full of a terror no child should ever know. “What about you, mommy?” he whispers.
My hands fly to my mouth to stop the sob from erupting out of me. He called me mommy. And that might be the first and only time I get to hear that come from his mouth.
The door handle behind me rattles.
“I’ll be right behind you, son. Now go. Run. Don’t look back. I love you.”
He runs. Small legs pumping across the grass, disappearing around the side of the house into whatever lies beyond, and I break down. The pain inside now is worse than anything physical.
The door bursts open, and I turn to face them. Beau is there and Reese is behind him with a black eye. Both of them see the empty chairs. The ropes on the floor. The open window.
Beau’s eyes snap to me.
I don’t run. Because if I run, they chase me. And if they chase me, they might find Wyatt. I have to buy him time to get away. So I stay. I plant my feet on the hardwood floor of this house, with no plan beyond this single, absolute truth…
Wyatt is out.
And as long as he’s running, I will stand here and be the reason they’re not chasing him. Because that little boy deserves to live. And I will sacrifice my own life for his.
Beau stares at me. Something flickers across his face, surprise, maybe. That I’m still here. That I didn’t climb out behind the boy.
“That was a mistake,” Beau seethes, closing the distance between us.
“I don’t care.” I hold his stare, and he stops right in front of me, towering over me to try to scare me. I’ve had enough of men trying to frighten me. “I hope Hunter cuts you up for this,” I say, full of venom.
He takes a step forward.
I don’t flinch. I don’t even walk back.
Because Hunter Sterling married a woman who doesn’t run. And if anything happens to me in this house, he’ll know I stayed so his son could live. And that will be enough. “Reese should have finished the damn job the first time and shut your whore mouth up for good.”
Before my brain can react to what he says, his hand hurtles towards my face. When it connects, my head snaps back, pain erupting through my jaw and into my skull as I hurtle towards the coffee table. Worse than what he did to me in the truck. This fucking kills.
“Beau! Have you lost your fucking mind? Blackmail doesn’t work if she’s dead.” I can hear Reese shouting. But the blood thumping in my ears is louder.
I use every ounce of power in me to hold out my hand. Reese. Might. “Help,” I croak, my voice weaker than my body.
My eyes are heavy, and a warm liquid trickles over my eyes. I can’t move. “Lola! Stay awake. Fuck. Lola!”
I can’t talk. I can’t stay awake.