~Aaron~
I pressed hard on the brakes, bringing the car to a sudden stop. The sound of a gunshot tore through the air, freezing my blood. I stepped out, shutting the door behind me with more force than necessary, my heart hammering in my chest.
Louis had let me know the second Joan left the house. I’d promised her a bodyguard before everything spiraled out of control, and he’d been keeping tabs on her to make sure she stayed safe.
Maybe I’d had him report a little more than necessary about her daily schedule. That was the only way I could know she was okay-or at least that’s what I told myself.
Tonight, she wasn’t okay.
Louis had followed her here, keeping his distance until I arrived. I stared at the abandoned building in front of me, my stomach twisting. What the hell was she thinking, meeting Matthew here alone?
Speaking of Matthew, the bastard had outplayed me. The moment Denzel informed me about a new text on Joan’s phone, I’d told him to hack into it. That’s when I knew Matthew was still in contact with her, after managing to escape me.
I stepped inside. The scene hit me like a punch to the gut: Louis stood there, gun in hand, aiming at Matthew. The bastard was slumped on the floor, clutching his leg and glaring at us. Looked like Louis had taken a shot to disarm him.
Then I saw her. Joan. She was limp, sagging against a chair. My pulse kicked into overdrive as I rushed to her, dropping to my knees. My fingers fumbled as they searched her neck for a pulse.
There it was. Faint, but steady. Relief surged through me, only to be replaced by a cold, burning rage as my gaze dropped to her bleeding arm. My hands clenched into fists, my teeth grinding together.
“You son of a bitch!” I surged toward Matthew, grabbing his collar and slamming my fist into his face. His head snapped back, but he just giggled like the deranged lunatic he was, showing off a bloody tooth as if it was a trophy.
“You came running, didn’t you? Didn’t think you’d still care about her,” he taunted, his voice grating like nails on a chalkboard.
I didn’t let him finish. My fist met his face again and again, my knuckles burning with every blow, until his body slumped like a ragdoll.
Louis’s voice cut through the haze. “He’s still alive,” he said after checking for a pulse. I gave a curt nod and let go of Matthew, his limp body hitting the floor with a dull thud.
“Take him to the basement,” I ordered, scooping Joan into my arms. My gaze flicked back to Louis. “Keep him alive. I’m not done with him yet.”
Without waiting for a response, I carried Joan out to my car, carefully tucking her inside. My hands were shaking as I grabbed my phone and called my doctor.
“Mr. Thompson, what-”
“Meet me at the house. Emergency,” I snapped, cutting him off and ending the call before he could say anything else.
As I drove, my eyes darted to the rearview mirror, to Joan’s pale face and the faint blue tint of her lips. The sight twisted my stomach into knots. He’d fucking shot her. What if Louis hadn’t been there?
I couldn’t let myself think about that.
Ten minutes later, I pulled into my driveway and carried her inside. Doctor Hudson arrived shortly after, his face unreadable as he examined her.
“She’s lucky,” he finally said, removing his stethoscope. “The bullet didn’t go in-it just grazed her arm. Should I ask why someone’s been shot?”
“No,” I said flatly, leaning back against the wall, my arms crossed.
Hudson gave me a look but didn’t press further. He worked quickly, cleaning and dressing her wound. The sight of her blood-stained skin was like a knife twisting in my chest.
“She’s going to be fine, right?” I asked, my voice low.
“She’ll be fine,” he confirmed, packing up his things. “But she needs rest. No stress on that arm.”
I nodded, watching him finish. He handed me a knife he’d found in her pocket. Smart girl, but she hadn’t had the chance to use it. I tucked it into my pocket.
When he left, I carried Joan to my bedroom and tucked her in. I stood there for a long moment, just staring at her. God, I’d missed her-more than I wanted to admit.
Brushing a strand of hair from her face, I whispered, “I’m sorry, kitten. Sorry for all of this. But it’s for the better.”
I left the room, shutting the door softly behind me. The ache in my chest was unbearable, but I didn’t let myself linger. Instead, I went to my study. I wasn’t going to sleep anyway.
The hours dragged on and it was finally morning.
When Joan finally stirred, a soft groan escaped her lips. I stayed where I was, leaning against the wall, watching as her eyes fluttered open. She blinked at the ceiling, confusion clouding her expression before realization hit.
She sat up abruptly, her eyes darting around the room wildly until they landed on me. The moment her green eyes locked onto mine, my chest tightened painfully.
“Seriously?” she said, her voice dry and unimpressed. “You’re the first person I see when in the afterlife? Figures.”
I pushed off the wall, taking a slow step toward her. “You’re not dead,” I said simply.
Her gaze dropped to her arm, then flicked back to me. “What happened?”
I filled her in, keeping my voice calm and steady even as I watched the as my words darken her expression. When I finished, she swung her legs off the bed and stood.
“Thanks for saving me,” she said curtly. “But I’d like to leave now.”
“Stay,” I insisted. “At least until your arm gets better.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Have I ever given you the impression that I can’t take care of myself?”
“You were almost killed,” I pointed out, my tone dry.
“That was a mistake,” she shot back. “One I won’t make again. Now, my knife, please.”
I dug it out of my pocket and handed it to her. She tucked it away before pointing at her clothes. “And my hoodie?”
For a second, I stared at her in disbelief. “This is insane, Joan. You-”
“Guess I’ll find it myself.” She grabbed the hem of my T-shirt, ready to pull it off right there, and I cursed under my breath.
“Fine. I’ll get it,” I muttered, leaving the room and returning with her hoodie.
She didn’t waste time changing into it, not caring that I was standing right there. I kept my eyes on her face, refusing to let them wander.
“Thanks for everything,” she said once she was dressed. Her tone was polite, distant, and it cut deeper than I expected. “But don’t follow me. I don’t need your bodyguard or anyone else. I’ll be fine on my own.”
And with that, she brushed past me, leaving me staring at the empty bed.
It didn’t take long for the truth to hit me. She was over me. And that fucking sucked.
But once I dealt with Ace Knight, I’d get her back. No matter what it took.