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’m unsure at this point. The police were just arriving on scene as we were rushing Harper back into the hospital, so I’m sure they will have more answers than I can supply right now,” she explains. “However, it appears that Harper was attacked in the hospital parking garage after her shift. There’s a significant stab wound to her abdomen, and she has lost a lot of blood. She, uhh . . . She requested I call to let you know.”
I let out a breath, my cheeks blowing out as I shake my head, at a complete loss. Who the fuck would attack Harper in the parking garage? “I, uhhh . . .” I let my words fall away, my mind reeling with so much concern, fear, horror, and all the questions firing off in my head.
“Listen, I have to go,” Amelia tells me. “She’s just about prepped for surgery. For now, she is in stable condition. We’re going to go in and repair any damage we can find, and ensure there’s no internal bleeding. I don’t anticipate being in surgery for long. However, knowing Harper, I am sure she would appreciate seeing a friendly face when she wakes.”
I swallow over the lump in my throat, trying with everything I have not to allow my voice to break. As I grasp the steering wheel in a death grip, images of my girl bleeding out on the fucking ground assault my mind. “Already on my way.”
“Okay. We’ll see you shortly.”
Amelia ends the call, probably having no fucking idea of the horrific state she’s just left me in, but all I can do is try to get there as fast as I can to be with Harper, to hold her hand as she wakes up, to be the one who comforts her when the memories flood back and she breaks into a million tiny pieces. But fuck, I’ll do anything to put her back together, one little piece at a time.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel, my knuckles turning a ghostly shade of white as I try to figure out what kind of monster would do this to her. Hasn’t she been through enough as it is? Harper has survived the impossible already. She was jumped by that asshole janitor and his friends barely a month ago. Her bruises have only just faded, but she still bears the scars from the day. Not to mention the mental trauma she’s suffered from weeks of being haunted by the demons inside her own mind.
We only just got her back on track with therapy and meds. She’s been making incredible leaps to trust her own mind. And now this?
Fuck. I’m going to have to keep her bubble-wrapped.
Reaching the hospital parking garage, I pull into the closest available space to the main entrance and quickly cut the engine. I’m desperate to sprint up toward her car, to search every corner of this goddamn cinder block for any clue as to who would do this to her, but getting to her bedside and hearing the rhythmic beep of her heart rate monitor outweighs everything else.
Instead of searching for the answers I’m so fucking desperate for, I hurry to the main doors of the hospital, desperately seeking someone who can help me.
The place is massive, but apart from doctors and nurses who look as though they’re struggling through the last few hours of a double shift, it’s practically a ghost town. I race through the lobby before finally reaching the main reception desk and not bothering to wait until the woman behind the counter can give me her attention.
“Harper-Rayn Madden,” I state. “She’s in surgery.”
The woman glances up, and her eyes widen, but I don’t have the patience to stop and figure out why. Maybe it’s the fear in my eyes that alarms her, or maybe I look like a fucking crazed lunatic who’s about to burn the hospital to the ground if she doesn’t give me exactly what I need right this damn second.
The woman quickly drops her gaze to her computer, madly tapping at the keys. “Uhhh . . . yes. Here she is,” she murmurs before glancing back up and looking at me expectantly. “And your relation to the patient?”
“She’s my wife.”
Her brows furrow, and I don’t doubt that she’s currently looking over Harper’s files and seeing that she’s listed as unmarried, but I don’t care. She might not be wearing my ring on her finger, but in my head, it’s all but set in stone. I don’t need a signature on a piece of paper to tell me what that woman means to me.
“Right. Okay,” the woman says, deciding to take pity on me and give me what I need. “She’s still in surgery, and it could be some time. You’re welcome to take a seat in our waiting room, and the doctor will call once there’s an update.”