I nod, taking in a few deep breaths, allowing his soft, whispered accent to calm me, and notice the single, white lotus flower that’s lying on the bed beside me.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. When I didn’t hear from you, I called all over until I found you here.”

I reach up and touch the tube coming out of my mouth and shake my head, needing to tell him that when I leave here, I’m going home with him. I need him to know it’s over with Bennett and that it’s him I want, but he takes my hand away, reading me well, saying, “It’s fine. You don’t need to say anything.” His eyes are hard and serious when he says, “You’ll never go back to that bastard again. You’re coming home with me. I should have never let you leave my place the other night.”

I nod, agreeing with everything he’s saying.

“He’s never going to touch you again.”

I place my hand over the one he still has on my belly and the emptiness is too much as I begin to cry. He keeps his eyes on my stomach, fisting my hospital gown in his hand. His face pinches, as if he’s trying to brace himself for the worst when he finally asks, his voice coming out hoarse, “Please tell me our baby is okay.”

And when he finally brings his eyes to mine, I can already feel the salts eating away at my flesh as they spill out. He drops his head and releases a God-awful sob, and I do what I can to give him comfort as I run my fingers deep into his hair, gripping it tightly in my hand as he rests his head on my stomach. Seeing him in this much pain, this strong man who is always in so much control, is unbearable.

His shoulders hunch over and heave as he silently breaks. I want to be swallowed up by anything, just to be taken far away from this life, but I want to take Declan with me. I’ll always want him with me, and when he lifts his head, I notice the blackness of his eyes. His jaw grinds and I watch the muscles along his arms constricting. I begin to shake my head as I witness his transformation—the one I had been leading him to make. My heart slams against my broken ribs, and when I grab ahold of his wrists, he snaps, “I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”

No, no, no!

I shake my head, and he moves quickly to kiss the corner of my mouth, looking me in the eyes, forcing his words deep inside of me, saying, “That was our baby. My baby.”

Frantically, I cling my arms around him, needing him to stay with me, but he pulls back, telling me, “I’m not losing you. I love you too much, but that fucker is going to pay.”

I start clawing at the tube in my mouth, yanking it out of my throat, but begin gagging and choking as I watch him walk out of the room.

Declan, NO! You’re not a monster; don’t do this! Come back!

I thrash my body up, and I shriek through my gagging when the pain from my broken ribs shoots through me like a virulent fire. The machines are going wild, beeping and flashing, and two nurses rush into the room as I try ripping the tubes and wires away from me.

DECLAN!!!

“Hold still. You need to calm down,” the nurse scolds, but I can’t. He’s going to kill him. He can’t kill him.

He can’t.

Choking against the breathing tube, I’m pinned down as the one nurse removes it, and once it’s out, I wail in utter pain, scratching out a dreadful cry, “Declan!! NO! Stop him!”

“Who?”

“Please!” I belt out, but I’m still pinned down, and when I see the syringe, I freak. “No! Don’t! Please!!”

And in an instant, I’m a boulder, sinking like a thousand pounds, deep into the bed. I fight the drifting and weep, body and voice growing weaker with every passing second. I cry, powerless to stop what is bound to happen. I can’t lose the Declan I know, the Declan I love, because if he does this, he’ll never be the same. And in the end, I’ll have no one to blame but myself.

What have I done?

When I can’t hang on any longer, I slip under into a desolate sedation.

Alone.

TWO DAYS LATER

When I woke from my sedation, only a few hours had passed. And when the police came to inform me that my husband had been murdered in our home—shot two times in the head—I needed to be sedated again. Knowing what Declan had done—for me—pushed me over the edge.

Guilt . . .

I haven’t heard from him or seen him. I miss him. I worry about him. I’m scared for him. I haven’t called him because I’m scared to draw any attention, but I’ve texted him using the app on my phone that he gave me. There’s been no response though. Pike has been missing too. So here I am, having no idea what to do, and I’m all alone in a life I no longer want.

I couldn’t go home when I was discharged from the hospital this morning; I was too scared of what I would see. The police told me that one of the building’s residents made the call to 911 after hearing gunshots. There was no sign of forced entry though, and the police confiscated Bennett’s computer and files, among other things, as they move forward in the investigation.

So now I sit here in a hotel room, staring out the window, looking down on a city full of people, but I’ve never felt so isolated.

Where’s Declan? Why hasn’t he come for me?

I’ve been doing nothing but crying. People assume I’m mourning the loss of Bennett, but I’m not. The sick part of me is content with his death. My tears are for my baby and Declan. Never have I been so close to my fairytale ending, and now I hang by a thread while I wait for any type of contact from Declan. I’ve been looking for signs, signs that Carnegie told me were everywhere, but I can’t see beyond the pain of what I have lost so far and the birth of hatred for my brother. The one who promised me that he would always protect me and would fight forever to give me happiness. And then the moment I come within reach of that, he rips it away. I don’t know if I could ever forgive him for what he did, because now, all I can do is wish for his death. At the same time, a part of me needs him. To know I still have someone here on this Earth.

What if I lost it all? What if nobody comes for me?

The misery that thought produces overpowers all the aches my body feels from Pike’s beating. I couldn’t believe what he did to me when I finally saw my reflection in the mirror. My first instinct was to cover my face, but then I realized I have no one to hide from. It’s only me.

A pounding on the door startles me, and when I rush over to look through the peephole, my stomach sinks and coils in fear but also relief.

“Pike,” I breathe when I open the door and wrap my arms around him, crying hard for all the fucked up emotions I feel for him. Love and hate, it’s a bitter mixture.

He kicks the door closed and holds me close before pulling back. His face is white in horror, hands shaking as he runs them through his hair.

“What’s going on? How did you find me?”

“I went to see you at the hospital, but you weren’t there, and when you weren’t at home, I started calling everywhere looking for Nina Vanderwal.” His voice is panicked as he speaks. “We have a huge problem.”

“What do you mean?”

Pike paces back and forth like a maniac, telling me, “Declan knows.”

“Knows what?”

He turns to face me, on the verge of completely losing it, when he says, “About you. He knows your name. He’s knows you’re Elizabeth.”

“What?! How?” I go stiff, and my first thought is that I’ve already lost him. Pike doesn’t give me much time to think though as he continues.

“I don’t know, but when I was driving home earlier this morning, that fucker was waiting for me at the trailer.”

“Shit! What did he say?”

“Nothing. I saw him, knew exactly who it was, and drove off, never stopping. I went straight to Matt’s place and he said that some guy with an accent had called him the day before asking questions about you and me.”