Page 74 of Savage Rule

“Gideon,” she calls out weakly.

“Fuck!” he curses. “Why did you do this?” He’s standing in front of us, his face bruised and worried. His gaze roves over her body, and the worry is replaced by shame. “Scarlet.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “You didn’t stop and I was scared and I couldn’t stop you.”

“Get her—” Gideon doesn’t get to finish that sentence because in that moment, there’s an explosion so powerful, it rocks the entire building. “They’re here.”

“Shit.” I scoop her legs up, cradling her to me. “She’s bleeding heavily.”

Gideon snatches the gun off the floor. He rushes to the side of the fireplace and pushes what looks like a regular set of shelves,revealing a secret doorway. “Through here. This stairwell leads directly outside. Get her the fuck out of here.”

“Wha abou you?” Scarlet asks, her words slurred now.

“I’m so sorry.” Gideon’s lips tighten and he smooths back her hair. To me, he says, “Get her out of here. Protect her with your life, or I’ll fucking end yours.”

I give him an oath; one I don’t intend to break. “If anything happens to her, I’ll end it myself.”

23

SCARLET

Iawaken to the sound of snoring. Slowly, I crack open my lids and for a split second, I go into panic mode because I don’t recognize anything.

But the panic doesn’t last long when I realize where I am and who is with me.

I’m lying in a hospital bed surrounded by sterile walls and IVs. Beside me in a vinyl chair, Gunn is sleeping in what has to be the most uncomfortable position ever— bent over, his head on my lap, his neck twisted and an odd angle.

Hanging in front of me is a television set to a news channel. Next to that is a white board with a lot of important information. For example, I learn that I’m at the Presbyterian Hospital in room 323. My tech is Jackie, and the physician on call is Dr. Mills.

But it’s when I read further that I find myself rereading what’s been written.

Patient’s Name: P. Sinclair.

Spouse: G. Sinclair.

Councilor: Dr. Davis D.O.

I lift my head slightly to peer down at myself and get a good reminder of why I’m here and why they’ve assigned me a mental health professional. Both of my arms are completely wrapped in bandages.

Whatever I’ve done throughout the years, how much ever I’ve tried to hide it, I can’t anymore.

For a long while I lay there, staring at the ceiling, contemplating what my life will be like now. What this all means.

Will I be committed? Arrested?

Just outside of my room, beyond the slightly opened door, I spot a police officer at the nurses’ station.

Is he here for me?

My fingers twitch as my mind is filled with the worst-case scenarios, and I desperately try to work a way out of them. Tears begin to fill my eyes, and when I blink, they roll down my temples.

Then, Gunn stirs and I turn to him and my brain stops. All I can think of now is that he’s here. He didn’t abandon me to whatever my fate will be.

It takes all the strength I can muster to move my heavy arm and touch him. “Hi, Dimples.”

He groans and sits up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hi back. How do you feel?”

“I feel the way I look.” I try to smile, but he doesn’t react to it.

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