"I'm going to make sure you lose it." Thad’s voice is cold and dead. "I'm going to make sure you feel exactly what I felt. Exactly what it's like to lose everything."
He raises the knife. And then Savannah does something I never expected.
She fights.
Her free hand shoots out and grabs his wrist—the one holding the knife—with both hands. Her grip is desperate, and I can see her fingers digging into his skin hard enough to bruise.
"You don't get to touch me!" she screams. "You don't get to hurt my baby!"
Thad tries to pull away, but she's holding on with a strength I didn't know she had—a strength born of pure maternal rage. "Let go of me!" He's trying to shake her off, but she won't release him.
They struggle, and I try to move toward them, but my legs won't cooperate. I can’t do anything but watch, helpless.
And then Savannah does something that stops my heart.
She twists his wrist—hard—and the knife falls from his grip. It clatters to the floor between them, and for a moment, they both stare at it.
Then Savannah moves.
She's faster than him. Faster than she should be after everything she's been through. She lunges for the knife, her hospital gown tangling around her legs, and she grabs it.
"Savannah, don't—" I shout, but it's too late.
She turns, the knife in her hand, and Thad is reaching for her again, his hands going for her throat. She doesn't hesitate. She drives the knife into his chest.
Not his stomach or his shoulder. His chest. Right where his heart is.
The sound he makes is horrible—a wet, choking gasp. His eyes go wide with shock, and he's looking down at the knife protruding from his chest like he can't believe it's real.
"That's for Jennifer," Savannah says, and her voice is cold, furious… like nothing I’ve heard from her before. "That's for Rebecca. For every woman you've hurt and manipulated and tried to control.”
She pulls the knife out, and blood pours from the wound. Thad stumbles backward, his hands going to his chest, trying to stop the bleeding.
"Savannah—" he gasps. "You—you killed me?—"
"Yes." She's still holding the knife; her hands are shaking now. "I did. And I'd do it again."
He falls.
His body hits the floor with a heavy thud, and blood spreads across the white linoleum in a dark pool. Savannah is standing over him, the knife still in her hand, and for a moment, she just stares.
Then the knife falls from her grip, clattering to the floor beside Thad's body. She turns to me.
"Romeo—" Her voice breaks. "Romeo, you're bleeding—" She hurries toward me, and I try to stay upright, but my legs are giving out. I'm falling, and she catches me.
We go down together, and she cradles my head in her lap, screaming. "Help! Someone help! I need a doctor! Please!"
Her hands are on my side, pressing against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. But there's so much blood. Too much blood.
"Stay with me.” She's crying now. "Romeo, stay with me. Don't you dare leave me. Don't you dare?—"
"Savannah—" My voice won't work properly.
"I'm here. I'm right here." She's pressing harder against the wound, and I can feel the pain, but it's distant now. Fading.
"You—you killed him—" I manage.
"I know." Her voice is shaking. "I know. I had to. He was going to hurt the baby. He was going to hurt me. He was going to?—"
