Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 136048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
I try to focus on Amelia, but I’ve lost far too much blood, and I zone in and out, barely aware of how the array of doctors transfer me onto a gurney. Amelia climbs on top of me, straddling my hips as she puts her whole body weight against my wound, desperately trying to get control of the bleeding.
“You are not dying, you hear me?” she demands as the doctors rush me back through the parking garage to the emergency entrance, hopefully leading me straight into a surgical room where they can knock me the fuck out and put me out of my misery.
I grip her wrist over my wound, barely able to hold on. “Knight,” I whisper, my eyelids fluttering.
“We’ll call him,” she promises me. “But focus on me, babe. There will be time to scare the shit out of him once you’re stable.”
I nod as I start to zone out again.
“Harper!” Amelia demands. “Shit.”
And with that, my world completely slips away. Amelia’s horrified stare is the last thing I see before complete and utter darkness consumes me.
2
KNIGHT
Barging through the door of my home, I look around, expecting to find Harper waiting for me on her fucking knees like the good little vixen she is, only there’s no sign of her. I come to an immediate stop.
She should have beaten me home by at least ten minutes, and when her car wasn’t in the driveway or parked on the curb, I figured she had driven that old Honda of hers right into the garage.
“Morticia, you home?” I call out, my gaze sweeping through our home, but I’m answered with silence. Her shoes aren’t by the door, her bag isn’t spilling across the dining table, and her welcoming smile didn’t meet me at the door.
Something’s wrong.
My gut sinks, and I pull my phone out of my pocket, glancing over the texts she sent me barely twenty minutes ago, making sure I read them correctly. I was just leaving work when I last checked in on her. Harper told me that she was just finding her car to come home, and assuming she took her time, at this time of the morning, it should have taken her no more than twelve minutes, but it’s been well over twenty.
Hoping like fuck I’m overthinking this, I stride deeper into my home, flipping on lights as I go. I make my way to our bedroom, quickly scanning over the perfectly made bed before heading for the en suite bathroom. After work, I like to decompress by sinking deep inside her, but Harper is the type of woman who would prefer to stand under the shower, soaking in the warmth until the water runs cold. Then she’d spend the next few hours driving me wild with that sweet cunt.
“Doll?” I ask, reaching the en suite and peeking in, only the lights are out, and there’s not a damn sign of her in my home.
Something is very wrong.
Not having realized how tightly I’ve been gripping my phone, I loosen my hold and bring up her name before immediately pressing call and lifting it to my ear. I make my way back to the front door, more than ready to go find her.
This girl is a magnet for trouble. She doesn’t go out looking for it, but no matter what, it will always find her.
The call rings and rings, and when there’s no answer, I immediately call her again, already storming down my driveway and unlocking my truck. Sure, I’m probably overreacting. If anything, she’s stopped at the McDonald’s drive-through and is currently smashing a burger, and knowing Harper, that burger would outweigh answering my call a million times over, but I can’t shake the unease pulsing through my veins.
There’s still no answer, and as I climb up into my truck and crank the engine, my phone screeches to life. Only as I glance down at the screen, it’s not Harper’s number staring back at me. It’s the hospital.
Fuck.
The unease turns to lead in the pit of my stomach as I hit the gas and floor it toward the hospital. “Hello,” I say, panic gripping my chest in a choke hold and refusing to release me.
“Is this Knight Slater?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, Knight. This is Dr. Levine from Blackstone Private Hospital. Amelia. Harper’s friend. I met you—”
“Yeah, I know who you are,” I rush out, not bothering to mask the irritation in my tone, and certainly not giving a shit how rude I sound. I can apologize for that later. Right now, there’s only one thing I need to know. “Why are you calling me? Where’s Harper?”
“She’s being prepared for surgery.”
“Surgery?” My foot slams against the gas, propelling me faster through the streets of Blackstone, fear tightening around my throat and threatening to pull me under. “What the fuck? What happened? Is she okay?”