Page 139 of Unforgiving Queen
He would hit Reina at that angle.
Without thinking, I took off running away from her. More bullets flew as I tried to find a better angle and shoot the fucker down.
And then the ground shook.
51
REINA
“Amon!” I screamed, my voice raw.
The whole scene moved in slow motion, but my brain still wasn’t able to process it. Why was Amon running away from me and in the direction of the bullets?
I crawled out of the car just as more bullets started flying, one grazing my shoulder. Pain exploded across my skin, but then the ground shook and I forgot all about my pain.
Smoke suffocated the air and burned my eyes as I searched for Amon. When I spotted him, my heart nearly came to a complete halt.
I watched his body hit the ground. My limbs trembled. My mind refused to process the events. He couldn’t be shot. Did the explosion kill him?
This had to be a nightmare. I had to wake up. Please, God, let this be a dream. A really bad dream.
But the roaring in my ears was real.
This wasn’t a nightmare. It was really happening.
I acted on instinct and threw myself on the ground as bullets continued flying. I started crawling until Amon’s eyes found me through the mayhem.
“Don’t move,” he mouthed.
I drew in a deep breath, my nails digging into the gravel. Shouting, explosions, screams. It all filled the air as I kept my eyes locked on my husband.
My heart pounded in my ears. “Don’t move.” I watched his mouth form the words and I let out a sob. He was so close, if only I could reach him. This couldn’t be the end. Our story had barely even begun.
“I’m coming,” I mouthed back.
He shook his head, but I refused to stay put. I had to get to him. My breaths shuddered. My knees scraped against the gravel as I crawled toward him.
There was a lot of shouting—in several languages—but I was too far in my own head to comprehend. I just had to get to my husband.
My knees burned, rocks cutting into my flesh with each move. Warm liquid pooled on my skin from where the bullet had hit me.
It was taking way too long to get to him. His head fell back on the pavement and I saw his eyes close. His body was sprawled crookedly and blood soaked his white T-shirt. Nausea churned in my stomach as bile rose in my throat, threatening to spill.
Please don’t die. Please don’t die.I could handle anything and everything, but not that.
“Amon,” I cried frantically, ignoring the pain I felt in trying to reach him.
I slowly closed the distance between us. The front of his shirt was soaked, the blood sticky against my fingers as they roamed over his chest, looking for the wound.
Oh, God, no. Please, no.
I leaned over and brought my cheek to his mouth. Every second I waited to feel his breath on my skin felt like a whole lifetime, my heart thudding painfully in my chest.
There! Right there!
He was breathing.
My hands trembled as I pulled Amon’s shirt up and saw the big gash across his chest. I didn’t need a doctor to tell me it was bad. He needed to get to the hospital.
