Page 123 of His to Save

The sound of Ellis shuffling closer makes every hair on my body stand on end, but I clench my teeth and force myself—as best I can—to stay still.

I must paint a pretty pathetic picture as it is; no sense in adding fuel to that particular fire.

“Hold still, Nora,” Ellis says from behind me.

I cry out as his knife pulls the rope taut against my tender wrists. Moments later, the rope falls away, and I fling my arms around Atlas’s neck, clinging to him as another round of sobs rack my exhausted body.

“Thanks, man,” Atlas says, now rubbing his hands up and down the entire length of my back.

There’s a weighted pause, and then Ellis says, “I need to know exactly what happened here?—”

“Take a breath,” Atlas mutters. “He shot himself.”

I risk a glance toward Ellis, and even through my endless tears, I can’t help but notice the dubious look Ellis gives him.

“It’s true,” I slur, my body growing weaker as the adrenaline fades. “S-said he’d rather d-die than go to ja-jail.”

“Good.” He heaves out a relieved breath. “That’s real good.”

He fiddles with his radio. “Okay, I’m about to call this in. When they arrive, you need to tell them everything that happened in as much detail as possible.”

Ellis squats down so we’re at eye level. “I mean it, both of you, every detail, no matter how small, okay? He may be dead, but I don’t want there to be room for even an inkling of doubt in anyone’s mind about what went on here.”

Atlas nods, and I think I do, too, until Ellis says, “Nora, are you with me?”

His voice is distorted, almost as if I’m underwater.

“She needs medical care, man.” Atlas’s voice is thick, almost like he’s trying not to cry. “The baby…”

“I know, brother. I know.” Ellis nods and grabs his radio. “Eight-two-five to Fortune County, requesting additional backup and ambulance to respond for a pregnant female with obvious assault injuries, unknown extent, and one unresponsive male on the ground, probable GSW. Requesting priority response, code three.”

“You’re okay, Pip.” Atlas brushes his lips over my temple. “You’re okay.”

“The ba-baby,” I mumble, my worry losing out to my exhaustion, my eyes slipping closed as I sink into blissful oblivion.

Atlas is here…

I’m safe…

CHAPTER 42

ATLAS

“How’s she doing?” Ellis asks, his posture rigid as he continuously surveys the scene. His eyes keep straying to Rand, as if he’s worried he’s still a threat.

“I don’t know, man.” I tighten my hold on my girl, trying like hell to let her know I’m here, even as she sleeps—at least I hope she’s sleeping—fitfully in my arms.

“She’s shaking like a leaf, and I’m pretty sure…”—my words dry up faster than the Sahara, and I have to force myself to swallow around the watermelon-sized lump in my throat—“…pretty sure he stabbed her. In the stomach.”

I press my head to hers, temple to temple, relishing the feel of her soft breaths puffing against my cheek. As long as she’s breathing, I know she’ll be okay. “Fucking hell, I’m freaking out.”

Please let her be okay.

“Deep breaths, man. Backup will be here soon.” He pauses and then grins. “Between you and me, though, I’m glad you killed him. Sorry sack of shit.”

“I just wish I’d have done it sooner.” I sigh, guilt pressing in on me from all sides. The weight of it is damn near enough to crush me like a Coke can. If I’d have reported him as a kid, orhell, I don’t even know—done anything, something, then maybe this could’ve been prevented.

Maybe I could’ve saved Nora a whole world of hurt.

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