Page 78 of Vengeful Lies

She was there.

Lying on the floor.

So very still that for one horrifying moment, he wondered if he’d left coming to her too late.

The kind of too late that no number of apologies and hard work could fix.

Cade didn't remember dumping the flowers on the bed and rushing to her side. The next thing he knew, he was on his knees beside Gabriella’s too-still body.

Gently brushing back her tangle of red curls, he noticed the flushed color of her face and the beads of sweat that dotted her brow. Her skin was warm to the touch as he pressed hisfingertips to her neck, and when he felt it, her pulse was beating much too fast.

She was sick.

Why the hell hadn't she told anyone?

And why did the thought of the answer to that question leave his heart pounding painfully in his chest?

“Gabriella, I'm here, baby,” he crooned softly as he carefully eased her over onto her back. As soon as he did, he gasped in shock as he saw her chest. Right over her left breast was a bite mark. The wound was clearly infected, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she’d gotten it while she was being held captive.

One of those monsters had bitten her.

On the breast.

And as far as he was aware she hadn't told anyone about it. She certainly hadn't told him, and when he’d asked about her condition and injuries his brothers hadn't mentioned it either.

She’d been hiding her pain and suffering because she was so focused on his daughter.

How had he ever let this woman go?

What the hell was wrong with him?

Shoving away his anger at himself because it wasn't what Gabriella needed right now, he smoothed a lock of hair off her sweat-dampened forehead. “Hold on, sweetheart, I’ll get you help, you just fight for me. Don’t give up, baby. Please.”

The last was a tortured whisper as he yanked his cell phone from his back pocket and dialed 911. After asking for an ambulance to be sent to the hotel, he hung up, and focused his attention on his girl, lying so sick before him that he wanted to vomit.

This was his fault.

He knew that it was.

She hadn't asked for help or told anyone she was sick on purpose because … he hated to consider the idea, but he couldn’t not, considering how he’d found her and that she knew there were two men right outside who would organize a doctor if she’d just asked. Or she could have reached out to his family, they were all firmly team Gabriella.

But she hadn't done that.

Because she didn't want to.

She had made the conscious decision to lie there and allow the infection in the bite wound to slowly seep inside her body.

The only conclusion he could draw from that was that Gabriella didn't want to live anymore.

Leaving her side for even a second felt wrong, but he had to work on getting her temperature down while he waited for the EMTs to arrive. Running into the bathroom he turned on the bath, put in the plug, and then ran back to the bedroom. Scooping Gabriella’s limp body into his arms, he carried her to the bath, toed off his shoes, and then stepped into the bath fully clothed.

As he sat, he settled Gabriella so her naked body was between his spread knees and rested her so she lay against his chest. Then he reached for a washcloth, dunked it in the cool water, and began to blot at her face.

After that, all he could do was beg.

Beg her not to give up.

Beg her to keep fighting.

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