Page 117 of Queen Of Dark Money

“Incollege, you dipshit,” he cackled as someone slapped a set of cuffs on his wrists. “Whenyou turned her into a one-night stand.Youleft her with a little more than that stupid necklace she refused to give up.Shetied the ends to a string, and news got out that she was pregnant.Herroommate liked to talk, and she liked to make things up, too.Lieslike howKenziewas raped to cover up her reputation as a good girl.ButIchased her right off that pier in the middle of winter, and she might’ve frozen to death if she wasn’t such a good swimmer.Shemiscarried, though.Servedher right.Ifshe wouldn’t have my babies, she shouldn’t get to have yours.”

Idon’t know howIended up across the room.HowIended up on top ofTheoThompsonin that musty warehouse, my fists slamming into his face until he was a bloody pulp.Howthe sounds of pure, animalistic rage poured from my mouth with every swing, punctuating each hit with a snarling scream, my fists raw and knuckles cracked and caked with his blood and hers.Iknew that when they pulled me off of him,Iwas certain he’d never laugh again.

Andit wasn’t enough.Itwould never be enough.

Notas long as he drew breath, and she didn’t.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

JASPER

Iwas in shock.

Ithink, to an extent, we all were.Itwas just part of the process, the stages of grief.First, the shock of the traumatic event.Then, the disbelief.Denial.Refusal.Acceptance.Lashingout.

Whoeverlaid out the stages of grief should have included a disclaimer saying it varied based on the person.

Becauseright now,Iwas murderous.Ididn’t see that listed anywhere on the paper they’d given us in school.Angerwas the closest thing to it, and somehow, ‘anger’ didn’t justify the pure, unadulterated rage rolling through my veins right now.

Iturned to the ambulance, watching them work on her heart, trying to make it beat as they loaded her in the back.Rafewas falling apart, too volatile to be allowed to ride in such cramped quarters, soRiverclimbed up without hesitation, and off they went, sirens wailing, headed for the best hospital in the city.

Ijust hoped, for all our sakes, that they could save her.

“Comeon,Rafe, we’ll take my car,”Dommuttered, dragging the distraught and broken man behind him.Acop made to move in on him, but one look from the bigItalianholding him together and the poor youngster backed up, hands in the air like he hada gun pointed at him. “Youguys can press charges on him later.Rightnow, we’re going to the hospital with our girl.”

Ourgirl.

Iwasn’t sure whenI’dstarted to think of her as ours, but hearingDomput it in words somehow feltright.Likeshe belonged with us and always would.Sometimes, it was pointless to argue fate, andIwas certain now more than ever that she’d been fated for us from the start.I’dnever believed in that destined love shit, thatHallmark-esque bullshit they fed you on tv around the holidays, the feel-good stories where everyone fell in love, and it all worked out in the end.

Lovewas messy.Itwas rough, it was hard, it was a batshit crazy time for everyone involved, but it was not perfect.Itwas flawed, blind, reckless, and chaotic.Itwas not easy.Itwas not always happy.Andlove was not always kind to those it caught in the crosshairs.

Sometimes, love was tragedy.

Sometimes, it was pain.

Andsometimes, it was cruel.

Theride to the hospital was longer in our heads than in reality, butIcouldn’t care less about reality right now.Iwanted to rewind time, go back in it, erase the horrorsI’dwitnessed as the perfect hellfire we’d finally come to bond with slipped away before our eyes.Iwanted to make it to her sooner.Keepher safe when she came out of that club, coughing up a lung and forced to part with me at the hospital for ‘legal reasons’.Theyput her at risk because she wasn’t on our paperwork, because she wasn’t an official spouse or family member.She’dbeen sequestered in a solo room and left to be kidnapped while the doctors were busy, and now we were expected to trust these people to save the life their own inadequate security had ultimately put at risk.

Somehow, that sort of track record didn’t inspire confidence.

Thehospital had already taken her to a trauma bay when we all finally regrouped in the waiting room, looking like a bunch of murderers, each of us wearing a portion of her blood on our clothes, hair askew, one man sporting a black eye–hell, ifIdidn’t know better, as an outsider looking in,I’dsuspect we’d been the ones to kill her.Butone sideways look at the nurse’s station dispelled their urge to ask us questions.

Wesimply stood there and waited, each of us falling apart in his own way.

Dominickpaced.Riverran his fingers through his hair, repeatedly, methodically, staring at the ceiling and mumbling to himself.Probablythat old-schoolCatholicismcoming back out in him.Itapped the side of my leg likeIused to whenIwas a kid, dealing with anxiety attacks.One, two, three, four.One, two, three, four.Rafe–well, he was a special case.Hehung off to the side, his eyes dry now, but bloodshot from his tears, hollow and broken like a discarded toy at the bottom of a donation bin.

Hewas the last manI’dexpect to crumble like that.

Somethingfloated back up into the forefront of my mind, a name she’d used when she spoke those last words to him.Myburning curiosity gave me a distraction, something less painful to focus on, soIlatched onto it, hoping it could do the same for the others.

“Danny.”

Rafe’seyes lifted from the black hole he’d been staring into the floor and found mine, a hint of recognition in them still. “What?”

“Shecalled youDannywhen she–when we . . . she’s done it twice now . . . why did she call you that?”

Iwatched him move through the various emotions in his head, settling on resignation and regret. “Becauseit’s my name,” he rasped, wrapping his arms around his midsectionlike it might help him hold together better. “Becausewe’ve met before.”

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