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Looks down at me—broken, bleeding, crying on the floor of my own spa.
"This is the last warning. Keep out of our business or else."
Then he's gone.
The door opens.
Closes.
Footsteps retreating.
Silence.
I lie there.
Can't move.
Can't think.
Can only feel—the pain in my ribs, my face, my arm.
The blood pooling beneath me.
The cold, empty space on my finger where my ring used to be.
He took it.
He took my ring.
The ring Gunnar gave me.
The ring that meant everything.
Tears stream down my face.
Hot and desperate.
I need to get up.
Need to call for help.
Need to?—
My phone.
Where's my phone?
I try to move.
Agony rips through my side.
Broken ribs.
Maybe.
Probably.
I drag myself across the floor anyway.
