Page 72 of Inked Persuasion

I shook, the shard of glass still in my hands.

“You couldn’t just leave it be. No, you always had to be a lying bitch. You were meant for me, Annabelle, and now look at you, bleeding like a whore on the floor. Well, I’m going to teach you exactly who’s mine. Because youaremine, Annabelle. You always will be. I’m going to show you how much.” He lunged forward, and I lashed out, slicing his arm. He let out a shocked gasp and put his hand over the bleeding cut. The gun was raised to the ceiling, and I tried to crawl, but then he screamed again and pointed the handgun directly at me. I froze, and bile filled my throat again.

“I don’t want to do this, but I will. Because there are other ways for us to be together forever. You should know that, Annabelle. You’re meant for me.”

And then the door slammed open, and I fell to the floor as Hotch whirled. Jacob came barreling through the door but froze when he saw the gun in Hotch’s hands. Hotch reached down before I could do anything and gripped me by the hair, putting the gun to my temple. I froze, and so did Jacob.

“Did you tell him you were here? You whore. Of course, you did. You always opened your legs for him. You’ve ruined her, Jacob. You’ve ruined my Annabelle.”

Jacob looked at me, his eyes wide, his jaw tense. “I was only checking to see how you two were,” Jacob said. “I can see she’s in good hands.”

I wanted to cry in relief. I wanted to cry and rage. I didn’t know what to do.

I just knelt there and looked at Jacob, wondering what would happen when the gun went off. Because Jacob would see this, and I would be gone. But Jacob would live forever knowing that he had walked in and the gun had gone off.

It had been Hotch, all along. But I knew Jacob would blame himself. But this wasn’t his fault. It was Hotch’s.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Jacob’s here so I could tell him it’s over,” I said. “Really, Hotch. It’s over between Jacob and me. You don’t have to hurt him.”

“Lies,” Hotch spat.

Jacob held up his hands, nodding. He risked a small glance at me, and I saw the pain there, the worry, the...everything. My heart ached, but I could barely breathe. “No, I understand. It’s over. She’s yours, Hotch. You don’t have to hurt her.”

Hotch sneered and then moved the gun, facing Jacob rather than me. I nearly cried out.

“Well, if I don’t have to hurt her, then maybe I should hurt you.”

I looked up at Jacob, at the glass in my hands, and knew what I needed to do. I mouthed,I love you, and then I moved. I slammed the glass into Hotch’s thigh. Hotch screamed as I pushed him away.Jacob moved then and reached for the gun in Hotch’s hand as I pushed Hotch down, Jacob coming at us. Hotch moved to shoot at me, but Jacob was quicker, but let out a sharp gasp as the gun went off.

I screamed, shoved Hotch down, and crawled to Jacob as Hotch started to cry, clutching his leg. Blood pumped from the wound, and I was afraid that I’d hit an artery. I couldn’t care right then, though. The gun was in the corner, well away from Hotch now, but Jacob was on the floor, and I could barely focus, my vision going fuzzy around the edges. Jacob held his hip, blood seeping between his fingers. I looked down at him, tears falling.

“No,” I whispered. “No.”

And then there were sirens, and people shouting, feet slamming onto wood. Somehow, Beckett was there, too, pulling me away as the paramedics came for Jacob. I just whispered, “I love you,” but I didn’t think he heard.

I couldn’t focus. I fell into my brother’s arms, wondering how he could possibly be there.

“Save him,” I whispered. “I love him.”

Beckett held me close as the paramedics came. “We will, baby girl. We will.”

And then I closed my eyes, and I prayed.

Chapter 22

Jacob

Ifelt like I had been run over by a truck. In reality, that had been Annabelle the week prior. I was home now, and I hadn’t seen her since.

I’d wanted to, but between the police questioning, surgery to get the bullet wound on my hip fixed, and Annabelle needing time alone with her family, I hadn’t seen the person I needed to see.

But at least I was home.

Maybe not at the home I currently resided in, but the place my parents lived.

“You know, you could head back to your place. Probably tomorrow if you want,” my dad said casually as he came forward with a bowl of soup in his hands.

I looked down at the soup and licked my lips. “I don’t know. If you’re going to cook for me, maybe I should stay.”

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