Page 89 of Blackout-

“You were sitting here all alone when I walked in,” he supplies. Dropping his hand from his neck, he tips his chin towards my lap. “What’s that?”

I divert my attention to where he’s looking and spot the pink teddy bear. Wondering where it came from, I lift it up and inspect it. I spot the post-it attached to the belly and instantly recognize Blackie’s handwriting.

A smile spreads across my face as I read the two words he scribed to the scrap of paper.

Team Girl.

Hugging it to my chest, I turn to Nico.

“I have to find him.”

“That’s why I woke you,” he says, regretfully. “I just saw the district attorney go into the I.C.U. with a bunch of cops. My guess—”

“Shit! Why didn’t you say that sooner?” I snap, bolting out of my seat. The teddy bear falls from my lap as I start for the double doors.

“Lace, wait!”

I press the button to unlock the doors and glance over my shoulder, watching as Nico picks up the teddy bear. The buzzer sounds and the doors open. Without giving him another glance, I rush down the corridor. My feet come to a skidding halt behind the army of cops surrounding my father and Blackie. Pushing through them, I stand between Ritzer and my father. Squaring my shoulders, I hold my head high and look right at the district attorney.

“You’re not taking my father in,” I shout.

I know I look and sound ridiculous, that there is nothing I can really do to stop him from taking my father away, but I was raised not to give up. We Parrish folk, we fight until we draw our last breath.

“Lace,” Blackie rasps as he steps behind me. Leaning against him, I struggle not to cry as he rubs his hands gently down my arms. My vision clouds with tears and before I realize it, Blackie has me in his arms and is guiding me away from the D.A.

Turning to face him, I brace a hand against his chest as the tears slip from the corners of my eyes.

“Blackie, do something,” I plead.

“It’s going to be okay, girl,” he whispers, thumbing my tears away.

“Dominic Petra,” Ritzer calls. My gaze flits to the man standing behind my husband, calling his name. There’s something about the way he stares back at me that makes my stomach drop. Fear engulfs me as he takes another step closer and I slice my eyes back to Blackie. His hand lowers from my face and flattens against my flat stomach. Without looking me in the eye, he mumbles something I can’t quite make out, and it takes everything in me to find my voice.

“Blackie, what’s going on?” I whisper frantically.

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at me.

“Black,” my father growls. “Stand down!”

“Dominic Petra, you are under arrest,” Ritzer says, rattling off a list of charges.

My eyes widen as one of the cops roughly drags his hand away from my stomach.

“This isn’t happening,” I whisper, watching as they pull his hands behind him and slap cuffs around his wrists. Closing my eyes, I cross my arms and pinch my skin, wishing to wake up from the nightmare, but all I manage to do is inflict physical pain. When I open my eyes, I stare at my husband.

“It’s okay, Lace,” he whispers.

Anything he says after that, I don’t hear.

I fight.

I cry.

I beg and plead but no one listens.

No one cares.

Not law enforcement.

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