Page 80 of His Obsession
Adrian’s face twists with something ugly and jealous and half broken. He drags her harder against him.
“Look at you,” Adrian says. “Crying for him.”
Val shakes her head as much as she can with the gun against her skin. “I’m not crying for him.”
“Then what are you doing?”
She looks at me, and for the first time since I stepped into this room, I’m truly afraid of what she’s about to say.
“I love you.”
Adrian hears it. His grip tightens, his eyes cutting to me like she just handed me something he thought was his. Val cries harder now, but she keeps looking at me.
“I should’ve said it before. But if this is the last chance I get, I need you to hear it.”
“This isn’t your last chance,” I say.
Adrian jerks the gun as if he’s going to prove me wrong. Matteo moves first.
He lunges sideways into the stack of crates by Adrian’s left shoulder, driving them down hard. Wood crashes. Bottles shatter. Adrian flinches toward the sound on pure instinct, the barrel shifting a fraction away from Val’s head.
That fraction is enough. I fire once. The bullet catches Adrian high in the temple. One clean shot. His body goes slack instantly. Val screams, a desperate, primal cry emitting from her throat.
Adrian falls backward, and she goes with him for half a second before I’m across the room, dropping my gun and catching her under the arms. She clings to me hard enough to hurt, then starts patting her own chest and stomach with wild, frantic hands.
“I’m hit,” she gasps. “Sebastian, I’m hit, I’m hit.”
“No, you’re not.” I pull her tighter against me and run my hands over her ribs, her side, her stomach, and then her back. No blood. No wound. “You’re not hit. Look at me. Val. Look at me.”
She does, but barely. Her pupils are blown wide.
“You’re okay,” I tell her. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Matteo is already on Adrian, kicking the gun away, then crouching long enough to confirm what I already know.
“He’s dead,” he says.
Good.
Val makes a small, wrecked sound and buries her face against my chest. I wrap both arms around her and hold on. Her whole body shakes. Mine probably does too.
“I thought he shot me,” she says into my shirt.
“I know.”
“I thought I was dead.”
“You’re okay.”
“What if the baby’s hurt?” she asks, voice raw with panic.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” I tell her gently. “Just take a few deep breaths. It’s over. We’re getting you out of here.”
She lifts her head just enough to look at me. Dirt on her cheek, tears flowing, and that split in her lip makes something savage rise in my throat all over again.
“You rescued me,” she whispers.
I kiss her forehead instead of answering. “Of course I did.”
