Page 11 of Her Faithful Protector

My chest tightens. I wish I could absorb whatever is troubling my baby, but nothing seems to work. This must’ve been what my mother went through when she took me to the hospital one night. I was only five, but I vividly recall her distress and the sensation of my head ready to explode. Despite her meltdown, she rushed me to the emergency room. And it saved my life.

I bundle Quinton in a blanket and get ready to take him to the hospital. Elmo sprints to catch me at the door, but after hearing my command to stay, his paw nails click against the floor as he tries to stop himself. The pup then sits and watches me with a pitiful expression as I leave the house.

I buckle Quinton in his seat, and he retaliates, crying loudly. I guess it’s better than silence. “I know you don’t want to be in this thing, but just one more time, okay?”

He keeps crying all the way to the emergency room.

A doctor immediately tends to Quinton.

After being given some acetaminophen, the boy begins to drift off to sleep. According to the doctor’s assessment, it appears that Quinton is having difficulty adjusting to the change of weather.

“Give him plenty of fluid,” the doctor advises. “Also, youcan put him in lighter clothing. I know it’s Montana, but we do have warm days here. Like California in spring.”

I thank the doctor and leave the hospital in relief. With Quinton sleeping soundly, I think I’ll finally be able to steal a nap until Jack arrives.

On the way back to my car, I spot two men sauntering along the garage. They are dressed in casual attire, but something about their demeanor makes me feel uneasy. They seem to be walking aimlessly at first, but then they approach me. One of them has a beard, while the other is taller and more muscular. They both wear baseball caps pulled low over their foreheads, obscuring their features.

As they get closer, I instinctively tighten my grip on Quinton while hastening my steps.

But they follow, and soon, the taller one glues his back against my car door, blocking it.

“Are you Ava West?” he says, his tone unnerving.

“No. You’ve got the wrong person.”

“We couldn’t help but notice your little one. Is that baby Quinton?”

The bearded man, who has remained silent, hooks his arm around my elbow. Finally, he speaks. “Don’t be foolish, woman. If you do, you and your baby will end up in the ICU. Well, I guess you’re already in the right place, but I’m sure you wouldn’t want to toy with that possibility.”

The men drag me into their van, shoving me inside. All I can think about is protecting Quinton.

“You put something in your fiancé’s drink before you left, didn’t you?”

This can’t be! I knew Willem wasn’t just one man, but to be caught so quickly, with Quinton in my arms? I don’t know what I’m going to do.

“Well, your fiancé is dead,” he continues. “So you betterkeep your mouth shut, or you’ll spend the rest of your life in jail for murder.”

My blood runs cold, and my throat constricts. Willem is dead? That’s impossible! I measured the dose carefully. It couldn’t have killed him!

“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, baby Quinton will suffer the consequences. Stay silent, and we can negotiate.”

Although still wearing their caps, the men seem to have let their guards down now that we’re on the move. They don’t even bother hiding their faces. The bearded man bears a resemblance to Zach Galifianakis fromThe Hangover, but sinister. On the other hand, his taller companion has a distinct set of rounded features.

As if realizing that I’m studying them, the taller one strikes me on the head.

Everything blurs and disappears, only to reappear as if it were a trick of the light.

I find myself lying on the grass. Alone.

“Quinton!” I call out in panic, only to hear my own voice echoing through the park. With every attempt to rise, I feel the weight of my throbbing head dragging me down. A metallic tang fills my nostrils, the scent of my own blood. I ignore my body trying to tell me to slow down. I scour the park, screaming out his name. But my baby is nowhere to be found.

“No…” I sob.

I don’t know where I am, but I can see the Capitol’s dome in the distance, so I’m not far from the city. Overwhelmed by dread and despair, only guided by instinct, I slowly make my way to the one place where I might find hope—Red Mark.

4

JACK

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