“You think I’d kill for you, but not die for you?” He shakes his head gently. “Silly girl.” His words are getting softer. I can barley hear them over the blood rushing in my ears.
“Ryat …” I sob.
“You deserved better,” he whispers.
Tears fall down my cheeks and I lick my wet lips.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t better.”
“Ryat?” I cry. “Please. Don’t leave me.” Blood starts to run from his nose. “Please …” I beg it to stop, my voice breaking.
Smiling, I watch the color start to drain from his handsome face. It falters, and he places his forehead against mine.
I wrap my arms around him, trying to hold him up, but his knees give out, and I fall to the floor with him. Leaning over his body, I see the blood start to pool around us onto the tile. He lifts his hand to my face. “Why did you do that?” I ask, my hands fisting his shirt.
“Because … I love you,” he says through a cough, and then his hand falls to the floor to his side.
“Ryat?” I shout. Mine pound on his chest. “Ry—at?” it cracks when a sob racks my body.
“Get up!” Matt grips my hair and starts pulling me from my husband.
“No! I won’t leave him!” I scream, twisting in his grip.
“Get your ass off the floor!” he demands, bending down and wrapping an arm around my neck. He yanks me backward, and my hands lose their grip on Ryat’s shirt.
He picks me up off my feet, choking me, and I kick. Silently screaming while I look at Ryat’s dead body lying on the floor. His eyes are now closed, and his head is tilted to the side, facing me.
Matt leans into my ear. “He willingly gave you to me, Blakely. Giving his life for you was fucking pointless. For him anyway. For me, it was everything.” Then he drags me out of the house.
My fingers dig into his forearm that chokes me. My feet kick up dirt and rocks, forming a dust storm around us. He gets into a car, dragging me with him. Someone else closes the door while he lets go of my neck. I gasp for a breath while he throws my back onto the bench seat. Then he’s pressing his knee into my chest, crushing me.
I try to scream, but nothing comes out. He pulls a syringe out of his pocket and removes the cap with his teeth. I silently cry when he grips my face shoving it to the side. Then I feel the sting on my neck. My body instantly goes numb, my arms and legs dropping like dead weight. He removes his knee from my chest, and I take in a ragged breath. His hand on my face moves it to where I have to look up at him hovering over me. He’s smiling down at me.
“I always win, Blakely. And you were always supposed to be mine.” Letting go, he runs his knuckles down the side of my face.
“Is she out?” I hear a voice off in the distance.
I blink, taking every ounce of strength I have to open them back up again.
“Almost,” he answers.
“Took you long enough,” the voice snaps.
And I try to rack my foggy brain to place it. It sounds so familiar …
“I got the job done,” he snaps.
This time when my eyes close, they don’t open again.
_______________
I WAKE UP, rolling onto my side. Grabbing my head and stomach, I feel sick. Nauseous.
Opening my heavy eyes, I see I’m on a bed in an unfamiliar room. It’s large with white and purple décor. I roll off it and make my way to the adjoining room. Thank God, it’s a bathroom. I fall down at the toilet and hug it while I vomit, hearing the bedroom door open. I sit on my ass, my hand wiping the vomit from my mouth.
“Well, well, well, the whore is awake.”
I get sick once again. When I think I’m done. I fall back onto my ass, my back hitting the side of the Jacuzzi tub, and look up to see Matt standing in the bathroom. And the person standing beside him is my mother. “You …” I grind out. “You helped him do this?” I knew the voice sounded familiar. It was my fucking mother?
“You gave her too much,” she snaps at him, ignoring me.
“I gave her less than suggested,” he argues. “She needs to eat something.” Walking out of the bathroom, he returns seconds later with a tray that must have already been in the bedroom. A piece of toast sits on a plate with scrambled eggs. It all looks old.
How long have I been here?
And Ryat? Oh God, Ryat. The memory hits me like a fist to the face. They killed him! My mother may not have pulled the trigger, but she was there to help Matt. Tears sting my eyes, and my throat tightens.