Page 102 of Dangerous Mission

Stunned, I grab her, pulling her back. When I pull her away, Griffon Kane’s staring at his sister, fisting his hair, looking like he’s completely unhinged.

Then yelling erupts behind me. “He’s breathing! Quick get the oxygen!”

Chapter Fifty

Through my delirium voices sound garbled. Scout’s arms lock so tightly around me, I wonder if he’s going to crush me. He carries me up the hill, scrambling deftly up the muddy incline as if it’s nothing. Below us I numbly observe people hustling quickly. Equipment being moved.

It all feels so far away. Like a nightmare I’m observing from above.

I’m so astounded at what I did, I feel dissociated from my body.

Scout puts me in the truck and leans his arm on the doorframe. He scrubs his hand over his face, as if he’s trying to reconcile what he saw too.

“Are you okay?”

The softness in his tone shreds me even more. But when he then threads his fingers between mine I wonder why.Why would Scout even want to breathe the same air as a woman that’s broken as badly as I am?

I pounded on a dead man’s chest.

Full stop.

I’m so far off the rails, I don’t even know who I am any more.

As a shadow falls over the truck, Scout pulls away. Moving quickly, he buckles me in and closes the door. Before I can see who is outside, he leans back against the truck, blocking my view.

Also blocking anyone on the outside from seeing how destroyed I am.

No staring at the crazy girl.

I can’t hear their words, but the vibe is clear. It’s a tense conversation. Scout rubs the back of his neck, and re-sets his ball cap twice.

They’re definitely talking about me.

My ears aren’t burning. My whole body is. The scars around my wrists are the center of the radiating fire.

Not only did I attack a dead man, I screamed that he is…wasa rapist.

My rapist.

Fisting my hair, I rock forward in the seat until I’m bent at the waist, staring at my boots.

God. I’m a monster.

And Adam might be alive.

Adam,myattacker is breathing. And now everyone knows.

The conflict tearing at my insides threatens to rip me to shreds. When I saw him on that backboard, eyes open toward the sky, his sightless gaze and his pale skin cold and waxy, a dark, broken part of me wanted him dead.

Gone. Forever.

I would never have to see him again.

Yet, I also wanted him alive so someday he might pay for what he did to me.

Rubbing my hand over my chest, I pray for relief from the pain. It’s too much. I can’t handle it any more.

I collapse back into the seat, the weight of this horrible day crushing me until I’m nothing but ragged breaths, icy hands and trembling muscles. What’s left of my heart is throbbing painfully in my chest, the beat uncertain whether it wants to race or stall.

---