She’s in pain, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
“Chloe, I need you to tell me what’s going on. Tell me how to fix it,” I plead.
“Just kill me. Don’t make my final days be filled with agony. Just get it over with.”
Her words slice me deeper than any knife could. Is she talking about when the week is up? Because there’s no way she could know about that unless Damon told her. I’ve made damn sure every one of our men knows I’ll make their death slow and painful if they step foot in the cellar while she’s down here.
“You’re not dying, Sparrow.” The words surprise me, but maybe they shouldn’t. I’ve been trying to rationalize with myself how I’m going to allow her to be killed right here in the place we fell in love all those years ago, but seeing her now? Seeing her in agony without being able to find the source, I realize that even if this week lapses with no information, I’m not going to allow them to hurt her. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
“I need some things,” she whimpers.
“Anything.”
“Painkillers. Strong ones. Pads or tampons, whatever you can find. And a hot water bottle.” Tears roll down her cheeks as I finally realize what’s happening.
She has her period.
It’s been so long since I’ve had a woman in my life, it didn’t even occur to me. But it should have. I helped Chloe through cramps every month from when she had her first period at ten, right through to the one before she ran.
The one before she fell pregnant with our baby.
One of the reasons I refused to believe she was pregnant at first was because at her last specialist appointment before we were due to go off to college, the doctor said, given the progression of her endometriosis, it would be unlikely she would ever conceive naturally.
It feels like yesterday I held her as she cried, mourning a future we weren’t even sure we wanted yet.
The reminder that she’s been dealing with this by herself for the last ten years, that she’s had one hundred and twenty periods without me there to help her through, is like a sucker punch to the chest.
“You have to put me down,” she whispers.
“Do you feel sick again?”
She shakes her head.
“Then I won’t be putting you down just yet. I’ll get you everything you need, but just let me hold you for a minute.”
“But I’m bleeding on you.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
RYKER
NOW
Things move quicker than I expect once everyone arrives at the De Marco estate.
Despite calling the boss repeatedly, he refuses to take my calls, and it annoys me more than it should.
He can be pissed at me, but he should at least be helping to bring her home.
We’ve been working on a plan for hours, and each minute that ticks by without any progress makes my skin crawl.
For all we know, it’s too late.
Especially because we don’t know why they took her. If it’s simply to kill her, or is there something else they want from her?
I stepped outside for some air twenty minutes ago but haven’t been able to bring myself to go back inside.
