Page 220

“I could hear them breathing behind me… I didn’t look back, though… I didn’t…” Another sob is ripped from me and Dalton runs his fingers through my hair, pressing another kiss to my head.

“It’s okay, baby. You did good.”

I shake my head. “But I slipped on something… I don’t know what it was… but I fell a-and I was t-trying to crawl… crawl to the bakery door to g-get help…”

The tears are coming so fast and hard now that I struggle to speak and Dalton’s body is practically vibrating beneath me as he continues kissing and stroking me.

“I-I knew Mi-Mila was… down there. I knew she… w-was. I just had to g-get to her.”

I can’t take a full breath.

My heart rate is going crazy on the monitor, beeping incessantly in my ear.

Every part of my body is shaking against Dalton, who tries to hold me tighter without hurting me as tears pour down my face.

“I re-reached for… for the door and I g-got hit again… in my s-side. It was w-worse than the other ones but I don’t…” I shake my head. “I do-don’t know why… and th-then… nothing. Everything…j-just went black.”

“Thank you, Lennon,” Mobley says, his voice full of compassion as he scribbles some notes in the little pad in his hand. “Can you tell me anything about your attacker?”

“It was fucking Owen,” Dalton snaps, his arms shaking around me and his chest heaving. I place my hand on his stomach and push up on my elbow to look at him despite the agony it causes. I suck in a breath.

“Baby,” I whisper, shaking my head. “It was a woman.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Rooster

“Baby,” she whispers, her hazel eyes meeting mine as she shakes her head. “It was a woman.”

I blink at her, my brows slamming down into a scowl as the room fucking spins.

What?

“What?” I repeat out loud, staring her bruised face.

She was attacked by a woman?

There is no fucking way.

It’s not possible.

This was Owen.

I know it was.

I shake my head. “No. It was Owen.”

He was behind every fucking thing that happened to Lennon and I refuse to accept that this is unrelated. It’s too much, too big of a coincidence.

“It was a woman, Dalton.”

“How do you know that, Lennon?” Max asks, taking a step toward the bed as I stare at the blanket over Lennon’s legs, my mind racing.

And yet, it’s achingly silent.

Fuck.

“She spoke,” Lennon says plainly, glancing over at me. I feel her gaze on me but I just keep staring at that damn blanket as my mind spins.