Page 119 of Hook

I shake my head, my stomach swirling with emotion. “It’s not that simple. I know he made a mistake, but we love each other. He’s the father of my baby.”

My dad looks like I’ve slapped him. “What baby?”

My gaze flicks to my stomach. “I’m pregnant, Dad.”

Silence fills the air as my dad’s eyes widen, and then he looks at Cillian. “You got my daughter pregnant? You son of a bitch.”

Cillian holds up his hand and hook. “It wasn’t planned, but I love her and I’ll take care of them both.”

Piero clears his throat, drawing our attention toward him. “I agree to your terms, Cillian. We’ll stay out of each other’s way, and I’ll leave you, your wife, and your child alone.” He nods to Tilly. “As long as you let her go.”

Cillian doesn’t show any sign of relief. “And Smyth?” he asks.

Piero waves his hand dismissively. “Kill him if you want. I don’t give a shit.”

Cillian shakes his head. “No, that would be too easy, but I don’t want him working for you.” His eyes narrow. “Leave the fucking state or I will kill you.”

Smyth’s expression softens, and he nods. “Of course.”

“Leave now,” Cillian orders, pushing Tilly into Piero’s arms.

He ushers her away and Smyth follows them.

And that’s when he collapses and my heart aches.

Is he going to make it out of here alive?

“Dad, call an ambulance now!”

He does as I say, dialing 991 despite the fact he’s in shock over my declaration of love for my kidnapper and pregnancy.

“They’re coming. E.T.A is five minutes. They said to keep a compress over the gunshot wound to stem the bleeding.”

I kneel at Cillian’s side and place my hand over his jacket, covering the wound.

He winces. “You could be a bit gentler, princess.”

“I’m trying to save your life,” I say, emotion sticking in my throat. “You can’t die.” Tears escape my eyes and trickle down my face as he looks so pale.

“It’ll take more than that to kill me.”

“I know you like to think you’re a God, but the truth is your flesh and blood.”

He smiles and rests his head back, eyes shutting. “I never said I was a God. I said I’m your God, Gwendolyne.”

Heat radiates through me as I realize my dad is listening. He clears his throat. “They said to make sure the victim doesn’t speak too much. He needs to conserve as much energy as possible.”

“How much longer?” I ask, as blood oozes through the fabric and onto my dress.

“They should be here any minute.”

As if on cue, the sirens wail in the distance. “Thank God.”

The ambulance pulls up a few seconds later and two paramedics jump out, rushing to the scene.

“What happened?”

“Gunshot to the abdomen,” I say.

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