Page 27 of Stay Little Fighter

He stares at me, like he’s not quite sure what to make of me, but eventually he sighs and pulls his phone out before holding it to his ear.

A voice comes down the line, and he quickly replies, “Get the doctor here now.”

Ending the call before they can respond, he raises a brow. “Let’s go. He’ll be here by the time you get through your vows.”

“I’m not leaving her down here alone.”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Bring her up. I don’t give a fuck as long as you get up those goddamn stairs.”

I turn around and carefully bundle Chloe against my chest, doing my best not to jostle her too much. The more she’s moved around, the further the bullet could travel, and the only reason I still have hope of getting her out of here alive is because it hasn’t made it to any of her vital organs yet.

Right now it’s just blood loss and infection we’re working against, but as soon as the bullet gets near her heart or lungs, it’s all over.

Once she’s settled in my arms, I press a kiss to her temple, reveling in the way she feels against me before following the guard upstairs.

Stepping into the run-down hallway, I glance both ways before following the guard further into the house.

Getting shot in the back is only going to mean Chloe never gets to see a doctor and she never has a chance to survive, so I play it smart.

I play the long game.

Ignoring the fact that I’ve been playing the long game for fifteen years, I tighten my hold on Chloe and breathe her in, soaking in what could be the last moments with her.

All those years wasted thinking I was doing the right thing.

I step through the doorway into what I think may have been a dining room once upon a time, but the filthy lace curtains and peeling floral wallpaper are the only signs of what used to be. Instead of a table and chairs, there’s a makeshift altar with green and white florals, just like she chose for our wedding ten years ago.

She always has had a flair for the dramatic, I guess some things don’t change.

Mikayla is blessedly absent, which gives me a chance to find an armchair that looks newer than anything else in the house, not a difficult feat I’ll admit, and carefully place Chloe into it.

She hasn’t regained consciousness, and I try not to let it worry me. I’m doing everything I can to get her seen by a doctor, everything else is out of my control.

Or at least that’s what I tell myself to settle the guilt eating its way through my chest.

“It’s going to be okay, Duchess. I’ll get you out of here.” I whisper the promise I have no way of keeping but I hope like hell I can.

My bride’s shrill voice bounces off the walls, and I shove to my feet before she can catch me with Chloe. The last thing I want to do is piss her off before the doctor gets here.

As soon as there’s someone here to help her, I’ll be more than happy to slaughter every single person in the house, Mikayla included. But until that moment, I’ll play their games and pretend to follow their every order.

She appears in the doorway with a sneer, her eyes finding mine immediately.

“Something wrong, Mik?”

“Don’t call me that!” she snaps.

“It wouldn’t be a nickname if you were the one that chose it.”

She stamps her foot like a petulant child and storms further into the room. “Good to know you’re just as insufferable as you were when we were nineteen.”

I smirk. “What’s got you throwing a tantrum, Mikayla?”

She’s worked up about something else right now, and if she’s anything like she was when we were younger, she’ll want to bitch about it before she does anything else.

“I can’t get ahold of your father.”

I nod slowly. “I see. And what were you hoping to speak to him about?”