Page 330 of Hateful Games

“Haven’t you seen the news?” he cuts me off, a panic and anxiety in his voice I’ve never heard before. A tensed pause and he sighs, “Rosalie is in the hospital, Nova.”

I swear my heart stops beating altogether. The earth yanks from beneath my feet. Did I hear him right? It has to be a nightmare.

No! She can’t be gone too.

“Who hurt her? Which hospital?” I rapidly ask, my lungs suffocating.

He continues over my silence, “There was a fire at her house last night and she barely made in out once the guards called the fire department and the police. She is severely battered, man. The doctor said she was beaten and has cracked ribs and broken bones. Why wasn’t she with you?”

What have I done?

Everything from last night comes rushing back. One flashback after another. My first thought is she wasn’t lying. Did I almost get her killed? My gut churns as I swallow the bile rising in my throat.

Someone beat her keeps chanting in my head like a bad omen.

I could’ve saved her. Stopped her from leaving. Her father must’ve done this. I knew what a horrible man he was and yet I taunted her and kicked her out to go to him. Because I was lashing out and wanted to hurt her.

The one thing I vowed to never do.

“Tell me she’s okay, Nathan.”

“I-I don’t know. She hasn’t regained consciousness yet. The trauma to her head from falling down the stairs was too hard. Had she been stuck upstairs, she wouldn’t have survived.” His voice cracks, struggling to speak. “Dash and I are with the girls with her. They’re distraught and haven’t stopped crying for a minute.”

“Text me the hospital’s name.”

I hang up and forget about everything except reaching her.

The ride to the parking lot is a blur as guilt, regret, anger, and paralyzing fear cripples me. My mind plagued and shouting that I made a terrible fucking mistake. Flashbacks of last night repeat over and over.

The awful things I yelled.

The violence.

Without a doubt, I know everything she uttered was true. It means her uncle is alive and he must’ve been in on it too. My actions are reprehensible. I let her walk into danger, to her own attack and demise.

I thought I was incapable of feeling anything anymore. I thought I knew anguish and sorrow. None of it compares to knowing I almost lost my Rose.

My beautiful wife.

Why didn’t I believe her? She came back and told me she loved me. How could I have been so cruel? I was no better than her father.

Settling behind the wheel two minutes later, I pull into the road and break every single traffic law as I drive at full speed. Horns blare and yelling ensues but I don’t fucking care. My hands tremble on the steering wheel while the other is fisted on my lap.

“Please don’t let it be too late,” I pray for the first time in my life. “I can’t lose her.”

The tires screech as I park in front of the hospital’s double doors.

I shake the memory of my mom’s passing to the back of my mind.

My only priority is my Rose.

“Rosalie D’Cruz,” I shout at the reception. “Which room is she in?”

She startles at my disheveled state, the strong smell of liquor, and guardedly says, “I’m sorry, sir. Only family is allowed upstairs. No one is allowed unless the police have talked to them first.”

“I’m her husband!” I angrily shout. “The room number. Now!”

Swallowing at my display of rage, she relents and gives me the information I need.

---