Billie’s panicked scream had me losing my fucking mind once more, and by the time the red haze cleared, the second figure was motionless on the ground. But I was too damn late.
Too fucking late again.
I turned to see Billie fighting off the much larger attacker, right before he pulled a blade from his belt and slammed it right into her rounded stomach. Once and then again, and again, over and over in the two seconds it took me to cross the few feet between us and pummel into him, knocking us both to the ground.
Under my bulk, all air expelled from him, the blade flying out of his hand as well. In the dull light of a fallen flashlight, I managed to catch a glimpse of the weapon on the ground and lifted it effortlessly to stab right down into this motherfucker’s chest.
I wanted to stab him over and over as he’d done to Billie, but I didn’t have the time. I had to settle for slamming it deep and twisting it for extra impact, before climbing off and scrambling my way to where Billie lay motionless.
When I reached her, I brushed her hair off her face, almost losing my shit when she remained motionless, eyes closed. A few seconds of feeling for a pulse, and I found a strong flutter under my fingers. Thank fucking fuck.
Lifting her with as much ease as I’d lifted the blade, I took one extra second to check Flo, my heart shattering at the silence of her pulse. The stillness of her heart.
Florence Foster’s light was dimmed this night, and all I could do for her now was ensure that these fuckers paid for their crimes. Every single one of them. But first, I had to save Billie.
If I didn’t save Billie, none of us would survive.
Sprinting across the field, I headed in the direction of the neighboring farmhouse before the absolute panic in my mind had me slowing and placing her back down on the field, tearing at the pajama top, trying to determine how much damage had been done. He’d stabbed her so many times that I knew I had to stop the bleeding. If I didn’t, she’d die before I got her across this field.
Under the top shirt, there was a second layer, and I tried to be as gentle as possible, all the while cursing myself for not grabbing one of those fallen lights. I couldn’t see shit, and it was impossible to tell where the wounds were.
My hands were slick with blood, the rich smell of copper filling my nose and making me gag as I frantically tried tohelp her. When she groaned and opened her eyes, I rasped her name, “Billie, fucking hell.”
She groaned and coughed before trying to pull herself up. “No, don’t move,” I growled. “You were stabbed, Billie. In your stomach. The baby… I need to stop the bleeding.”
It was pure blind panic pushing me now; very little could have stopped me in this moment.
She made a gurgling sound, and pure, cold fear chased through me. Was this it? Had he stabbed her lung and now she was drowning in her own blood? I’d never noticed how used to the light pollution of cities I’d become, until now. Out in this cursed paddock with only the light of the half-moon to help us see.
“Billie, Rose, please don’t leave me. Please, you can’t—”
“Jace,” she gasped out, her body shaking under my grip. She wasn’t drowning in blood; she was laughing. What the fuck? It had to be shock because it quickly shifted to sobbing, and she threw her arms around my neck, pulling me close as she cried.
I needed to get her medical attention. She could be dying.
“Jace, I’m okay,” she said between hiccupping sobs. “I promise I’m okay. My head hurts, but that’s all. I’mokay.”
Confusion wracked through me like physical pain. “What? No, I know what I saw, Billie; you’re in shock, but if you don’t get to a hospital, you’re—”
“Jace!” she shouted, pulling back and clapping her hands against either side of my face. “Listen to me, you arrogant bastard. I’mokay.”
Nothing made sense. “No, you’re not. You got stabbed several times, Billie; your baby is—”
“Not real,” she hissed, cutting me off. “Look.” She sat back on her knees, tearing her pajama shirt over her head and tossing it aside. Underneath, she wore some kind of singlet top that stretched tight over her belly, and then with a tearing of Velcro, she removed that too.
Not just the singlet top. The whole damn belly.
My jaw hit the dirt as I gaped in shock.
“See?” She grabbed my hand, placing it against her smooth, uninjured,flatbelly. “I’m fine.”
“Wh-what?” I croaked. “But… there’s blood on my hands and—”
She shook her head. “It’s not mine.”
My head swirled. I looked from her bare body to the prosthetic belly she’d just taken off. “It was fake?”
Billie nodded, tears coursing down her face again. My hearthurtto see her upset, and at the same time, I was so overcome with relief that I could barely formulate words. She wasn’t dying, and she wasn’t pregnant with Angelo’s baby. Holy fuck.
