Or better yet… where was my husband?
“If I can’t have what I want, you won’t either.”
Sloane was now right in front of me, and I needed to come up with a plan to get us away from her because she was spiraling even further with every passing second. I tried reasoning with her, but that backfired in an epic way.
“Just walk away, and nobody has to know what happened here.” I softened my voice, hoping it would help. “Please. I don’t want anything to happen to my?—”
I was about to say “babies.” That was thelastthing I needed to do, as it might only make everything worse.
Can it get worse?
It could. And it did.
“Oh, I’ll walk away alright,” she replied, responding before I could finish. “But not without the brat.” Her voice dripped with venom again, sending a shiver rushing through me.
Griffin whimpered, slicing my heart to shreds.
Sloane leaned over and grabbed my son’s arm, trying to pull him from my grasp.
Homicidal rage burned through me, and I felt out of control. My body shook with hatred, a feeling so intense, and one I’d never felt in my life.
“Don’t touch him!” I screamed, unwilling to let my baby go.
“Momma, don’t let her take me!” he wailed.
In a flash, the gun was pointed at my face.
“Let the fuck go now!” Sloane yelled. “If you want him to live, you will say your goodbyes and release him!”
I was going to be sick. How could I let him go? But could I hold on and possibly let her…
I couldn’t finish that thought.
What do I do?
There were only two options, and they were both devastating.
But only one might keep me alive—or so I hoped. If I did this and she shot me anyway, the choice I was making would be for nothing.
If I got up and tried to fight, she may shoot me, and I’d die without anyone possibly knowing who took Griffin. That option made me feel like I was giving up on my son. I couldn’t breathe, the reality of what I was about to do was choking me alive.
Terrified to death, I prayed my son would one day forgive me.
I was about to put all my faith in the man I loved to fix this.
Sending a silent plea to the universe that I was doing theright thing, I cupped my son’s cheeks in my hands and looked into his face, willing him to understand why I was doing this, and for him to trust me.
“You’re a champ,” I began as tears rolled down both our faces. “Your daddy will find you; I know he will.”
He couldn’t talk, he was sobbing too hard, but I saw the hope and acknowledgment in his eyes. My baby knew his father would do what I was saying.
Come hell or high water, Jett would find him.
Before Sloane roughly pulled him to his feet, I yanked my necklace from around my neck, shielding my movements behind his little body so she couldn’t see, and slid the tracker into his pants pocket.
Griffin’s eyes widened, and I shook my head, signaling him to stay silent. God, my son was smart, keeping his mouth shut even with as petrified as he was.
Once he was no longer in my embrace, I surged to my feet and made one last desperate attempt to get her to stop this madness.
