Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
“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, or hell, 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.
But then you wouldn’t have her, an insidious voice inside my mind whispers, amplifying my guilt to near nuclear levels.
Nora stirs in my arms, a weak, barely audible whimper slipping past her swollen lips as she presses herself impossibly closer to me.
“It’s okay, pretty girl.” I keep my voice soft, back like when I first found her at the Lakeshore Motel and she was more skittish than a doe. “You’re safe.”
“Any minute now,” Ellis says, checking his watch, and sure enough, within seconds, the sound of sirens pierces the air.
I keep rubbing soothing circles on Nora’s back, even as uniformed officers spill into the small cabin. Much like Ellis did, they scan the area, making sure the threat is neutralized before allowing paramedics to enter.
I'm desperate for her to be okay. For our baby to be okay. For us to be okay. The mere thought of losing either of them, of losing my family, is damn near—No! Cut that shit out. They're both going to be just fine.
And if they're not, I swear to God, I'll find a way to bring Rand back from the dead just so I can kill him again.
“Atlas,” Nora croaks my name, her voice still so raspy and weak.
“I'm here, Pip.” I brush her matted hair away from her face. “You're okay.”
She shudders against my chest, her small fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt as she clings to me. “St-stay.”
“I'm not going anywhere.” I nuzzle my nose into the top of her head, somehow still finding a hint of her sweet scent through the musty smell of the cabin and the coppery tang of blood permeating the air.
“Promise?” she asks, but it sounds like her mouth is full of cotton.
Before I can reply, a paramedic interrupts us, launching into a whole host of questions about Nora.
“Sh-she's been stabbed. In the belly. She's pregnant. Nineteen weeks.” My voice is pleading, frantic even. Now that help is truly here, all of my calm and collected is gone. I need to know she's going to be okay more than I need my next breath. “Please help her.”
“Sir, take a breath,” one of the paramedics says, earning themselves a mean glare. “We just have a few quick questions.”
I shake my head, nearly rabid with my need to get her out of here. “She needs help!”
“Atlas, man,” Ellis cuts in, laying a hand on my shoulder. “They're just doing their jobs. Sooner you let 'em, the sooner she gets help.”
I take a deep breath and hold it for a moment before slowly releasing it. “You're right. Fuck. Okay.”
I answer all of their questions—from her medical history to whether or not she has allergies and everything in between—as they pry her from my arms and strap her to a board, all while someone else takes her vitals and covers the wound on her belly with gauze.
“What about you?” he asks once they have all of the info they need on Nora.
“I'm fine,” I say, at the same time Ellis says, “Possible concussion.”
I cut my eyes his way, silently promising retribution. But the smartass just shrugs.
“We need to get her loaded up,” the one who took Nora’s vitals says.
“I'm riding with.” I narrow my eyes to slits, daring any one of them to try and stop me from tagging along. I’m not leaving her side until I absolutely have to.