I walked down the stairs, holding my belly against the jostling motion of each step, only to freeze when I saw what he’d done. The living room was set up exactly like the night Alex and Arianna spent together. The couch throw pillows were down on the floor, blankets were spread around, and matches were by the fireplace, ready to start a fire.
“Do you like it?” Ryan’s hot breath on my neck made my stomach roll. But I pushed down the nausea and nodded, using my speechlessness to project nervous excitement instead of complete dread.
He pulled my arm back so fast I couldn’t react. I spun, his hand cupping my breast, and I yelped. Ryan’s brows pulled together as his fingers skated over the rough outline of the scissors.
“Are you hiding something in there?”
I shook my head. My eyes dropped to his waist.Where the hell was the gun?!
“You are. Take it out. Now,” he growled. “Let me see, Callie.”
I pulled the scissors out, biting the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t cry.
“What were you going to use these for?” His eyes went wide when I didn’t answer. “Ah. You want to hold a weapon againstme? I’m such anawful manthat you feel the need to protect yourself from me, when all I was trying to do—all I’ve ever been trying to do—is protect you? Keep you safe from the world andlove you? That’s a crime?”
He threw the scissors to the floor and stormed into the kitchen. My parents had two knife blocks, and he grabbed the biggest, longest blade from the block closest to us.
“Ryan…” I held my hands up, my eyes never leaving the knife in his hand.
“Callie. I love you. If you tell me you don’t feel the same, you might as well carve my heart out right now. Take the knife.” The veins in his neck bulged. “TAKE IT!” He thrust the knife at me, my scream cutting through the air.
A split second later, the front door exploded inward. Ryan turned, knife still in his hand, lunging for Colt as he burst through the doorway.
Colt’s weapon was drawn on Ryan in the next heartbeat.
“DROP YOUR WEAPON!” he shouted. Ryan stopped advancing, but held onto the knife. Colt’s eyes flicked to me for one second—but that’s all it took for Ryan to move again.
A second figure was in the doorway, and the bang of a gun going off filled the house. I screamed, covering my ears as I fell to the ground. Hands roamed over my back, down my arms, trying to pry my hands away from my face.
“It’s okay, Vi. You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
My eyes flew open at the sound of his voice. “Are you okay?” I cried.
“I’m fine.”
“Oh, God. Ryan…”
“Jones had every right to fire on him, Vi. He wasn’t going to stop.”
I heard Nate talking into his radio as he held pressure on Ryan’s stomach. The knife was somehow across the floor; he must have kicked it after Ryan was shot.
“I need…I can’t be here anymore,” I gasped. My lungs burned. The place where our son had been cut from my body felt like it was on fire. Every inch of my body shook and I felt like I was going to fall into a million pieces. “C-Colt?”
“I’ve got you baby. It’s just the adrenaline. Take some deep breaths.”
“Connor?” I cried.
“He’s fine. Hawk and Jessie are with him.”
“Beau?”
“He’s good, too. Stubborn as always, but hopefully on his way to the hospital to get his head checked out.”
“Birdie’s not h-here. He n-needs someone.”
“Let’s just make sure you’re okay? How about we focus on that for a minute.”
An ambulance came and took Ryan to the hospital—with about twenty-five deputies who each assured me one hundred times that he would be handcuffed to the bed the entire time he was in there, and promptly charged with a flurry of words I didn’t quite comprehend. Colt was giving his statement to someone from the sheriff’s department, while I sat huddled on the couch under a pile of blankets.
