The first body is Taylor; the back of her head has exploded from the shot that killed her. Brain matter and blood lay everywhere. Under her is another girl, and from the distinct strawberry-blond hair, soaked in Taylor’s blood, I recognize that it’s my Stella.
Pushing the body off her, I glimpse slight movement in her back, indicating that she’s alive at least. I nearly wilt with relief. Trusting Martha’s word that the intruders are gone, I holster my weapon and reach for Stella.
Running my hands up the back of her body, she doesn’t rustle as I check for wounds. So far, I believe the blood might just be Taylor’s, but I won’t know until I flip her over.
“Stella, it’s me. I’m turning you over now.” I don’t want her to freak out, thinking it’s the killers trying to hurt her. “Please be okay,” I mutter, placing my hands on her hips and slowly rolling her over.
The sheer amount of blood staining her clothes, face, and hair is alarming as hell and makes me wince. My hands continue to feel for wounds, remaining detached and calculated while checking her over. I don’t find anything obvious, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.
Sirens are finally heard, and Martha is in the kitchen cursing up a storm about it. Stella’s pulse seems steady and strong, so I don’t think she was hit. More than likely, she passed out from the terror of death.
Scooping her up in my arms, I place her on the counter so I can keep my eye on her while checking on everyone else. As I walk around to the front, I see the booth where a family was eating, and I can tell they took off. There’s no blood, so hopefully they’re not hurt. Another booth, the one by the window that caught my attention, tells a different tale.
Three bodies sit slumped over. An older couple with a friend, maybe. All are dead—no signs of life in their open eyes.
“Christ almighty. What the fuck happened here?” Talking to myself, I move over to where Leslie also lies dead, and Tanner is hiding under a table, holding a hand to a leg wound. “You want to come out?” He shakes his head. The boy isn’t even eighteen yet; having this happen is going to fuck him up. “Call your folks.” I toss him my phone after unlocking it. He nods and shakily does what I say.
Screeching tires signal the authorities' arrival. I stand up, keeping my hands raised as I make my way back over to Stella, still out cold on the counter. A dozen or more officers rush in, weapons drawn, as ambulances roll in behind them.
“Hands! Let me see your hands!” the first cop yells at Martha and me as we’re already standing with our hands raised.
“Someone got a whack with the special stick, didn’t they?” I find Martha’s droll comment amusing. “I’m the owner, this here is a customer. The robbers are gone. Fifteen fucking minutes is kind of stupid. We got people dying here!” The mix of rage, fear, and sadness is palpable. “Get those doctors in here stat!”
“They’re EMTs,” the cop grumbles, annoyed at being scolded as the paramedics come rushing in.
“Her, the man down there, and there’s a boy under the table, afraid to come out,” I inform them.
“What about her?” one of them asks, pointing at Stella.
Turning around, I place a hand on her cheek, brushing my thumb on her soft skin. “Nothing visible, but she needs to be seen either way.”
Everything happens in slow motion, yet also at warp speed. Martha, Chet, and Tanner are taken away first. I’m questioned until another ambulance arrives for Stella, who still hasn’t woken up, and by the time we’re sent on our way, half the day is gone. Or it feels like it, anyway.
“Sir, how do you know the victim?” a nurse at the hospital asks for the third time.
“Fiancé,” I mutter, watching as they roll her body into a trauma room.
Her co-workers are in other areas for the more critical patients. While the bodies of the dead remain at the diner.
“What’s her name?” the nurse asks.
“Stella Jade. DOB is 07/12/04. No allergies, not taking any medications. Someone needs to call her mom, Claudia. She’ll be freaked out.” It’s all mechanical, knowing almost everything about Stella by heart now. I’ve studied her for so long. Planned to make her mine from the day my eyes set on her.
“We can make that call,” she offers.
Fuck, it feels like the wind was knocked out of me. I wasn’t prepared for this today. “Yeah, I’d appreciate that,” I reply, signing the forms she hands me. I don’t even read them. “Can I see her?”
“In a few minutes.” Her hand rests on my bicep in comfort. “Just wait here.” She pushes through the doors while I watch through the window as Stella’s clothes are cut away to determine if she has any injuries.
Placing an IV in her arm, they pump her with fluids, checking her eyes, her pulse, and an ultrasound is taken. She’s pushed, rolled, and poked until they clear her of any physical injuries. Which means her lack of consciousness is psychological.
Stella witnessed two of her friends being murdered. Laid under one of their bodies, in her blood for who knows how long. Feared for her life and likely thought she would never see her mom again.
“I’ll fucking kill them both,” I snarl, a nurse raising her brow as she passes by.
“Mr.…” The nurse from before opens a door.
“Vito Ruelle.”
