Page 88 of Wrecked for Love
“Claire…” I rasped, her name barely slipping past my raw throat as I lay hopeless on the ground, my body heavy and broken. I crawled like a dying lizard, helpless, watching—just watching—as they took her. Just like that.
And then it hit me. The nausea, the exhaustion she’d been hiding. My God…she was pregnant.
That’s why she didn’t fight.
She wasn’t protecting herself. She was protecting the life inside her.
I screamed into the night, a raw, agonizing sound that tore through my chest. The air spat it back mockingly, saying this was it. I had survived the fight, but now, I wasn’t sure I’d survive the night.
37
ELIA
I opened my eyes to a blinding sea of white. For a second, I expected to find myself in a coffin, or maybe I’d already moved on. But the gates of heaven—or hell—quickly gave way to the worried face of Logan Pierce. My best friend, too hazy to be real, stared down at me. For a moment, I wondered if we were both caught in some altered reality.
Things slowly began to come into focus.
“El! El!” Logan’s voice trembled as he fussed beside the bed. Moments later, a group of medical staff swarmed in.
They ran through the standard battery of tests, asking the usual concussion questions, but I couldn’t answer. My mouth was too mangled to form the words, so they checked my vitals instead.
“Everything looks good,” the doctor said after a beat. “We’ll check on him again in an hour.”
Logan exhaled a long breath, his shoulders sagging. “El…I thought I’d lost you.”
I managed a low groan, my body too heavy to do much else. I tried to raise my hand toward the glass of water on the tray, buteven that was too much. Logan caught the gesture and grabbed it before guiding the straw to my lips so I could sip.
“Hank was worried when you just disappeared—something about Fritzy,” Logan continued. “We scoured the town and found you dumped in a ditch by The Lazy Moose gate, wrapped in a bedroll. I’m surprised they let you live, let alone left you where you’d be found.”
They’d made sure I wouldn’t freeze to death—some twisted act of mercy. Lucien Voss had likely been content just watching me in the fight; he’d said I’d entertained him. Now, knowing he wanted me breathing, I couldn’t figure out his next move.
“It was them, wasn’t it? The Vosses?” Log asked.
I blinked, confirming his suspicion.
He shook his head. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness for two days.”
It hit me like a freight train.
Two days?
The seriousness of my injuries sank in, but there was something worse. My sluggish mind fought to piece things together. And then it struck me.
Claire!
I tried to push myself up, but my body was a dead weight. “Claire…” I groaned, trying to force my limbs to move. But by the devil’s breath, I couldn’t.
“El! Hey! You stay down!” Logan’s tone turned sharp, no-nonsense. I didn’t need my friend to tell me. I was no match for my own body’s rebellion. “I know you’re worried about Claire. The police are already looking. Let them do their job while you rest. For God’s sake, El, have you even counted how many ribs you’ve got left under your damn hide?”
I couldn’t even cry even if I wanted to. Everything was so messed up. The police? What the hell could they do? Patrolaround, flash a few lights, and head back to their cozy little station? That wouldn’t help Claire.
Two days. Two goddamn days. Claire could be anywhere by now.
“No police,” I labored. “Or the mess will get bigger.” Logan brought the water back to my lips, and I forced myself to push more words out. “She hit Armand with a hammer. That fucking slime attacked her.”
“Shit, El! Are you saying Armand Voss is dead?”
“No,” I exhaled. “In wheelchair.”
