Page 135 of My Broken Bodyguard 2: Ritchie & Tori

“We’re on our way to the warehouse. We got her.”

“Don’t you dare die on us,” Simone cried, cradling my head in her lap.

In the distance, Tyra laughed—a cold, sharp sound. “I hope that bitch chokes on her own blood,” she spat.

“Shut the fuck up, Tyra,” Asia yelled, her anger palpable as she supported my weight alongside Bianca.

My body felt heavy, my vision dimming as their voices blurred.

“We love you, Tori,” Asia choked out, her voice trembling.

In that moment, surrounded by my sisters in arms, I felt loved and supported despite the dire situation.

Their words of love washed over me like a balm before my eyelids finally closed for the last time.

I felt something warm and heavy on my hand. Slowly, my eyes fluttered open, trying to adjust to the light.

“Where... am I?” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Where the fuck you belong,” a deep voice growled.

My head turned to the right, and a smile tugged at my lips. “Ritchie?”

There he was, sitting beside me, looking utterly exhausted. His brown hair was disheveled, sticking out in all directions, and dark circles shadowed his intense gray eyes. His pink lips were pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. My husband was pissed.

A tear slipped down my cheek, unbidden. “I’m sorry for stressing you out,” I murmured, guilt lacing my voice.

His thick brows lifted, and his angular jaw slackened for a moment. “Tori, I love you, but...”

My breath hitched as his words hung in the air. My eyes widened, and I tugged at my hand, trying to free it from his firm grasp.

“I’m too much to handle,” I blurted, finishing the sentence I dreaded.

His grip tightened, and his eyes narrowed. “You think that’s what I’m saying?”

“You want a divorce,” I said, my voice trembling. “Ritchie, you deserve someone easier—someone who doesn’t come with all my chaos.”

Still holding my hand, he reached for the pink pitcher on the nightstand and brought it close to my lips. I lifted my head off the pillow and my lips latched onto the straw, I eagerly drank down the water before releasing it. He placed the pitcher back on the nightstand.

“Are you finished?” He asked through gritted teeth.

I glared at him without saying a word.

“I was going to say how upset I was that you got shot again. Not sure how you took my words so far out of context. And remember, I’m Italian; divorce is not an option. You are my wife and we are bound to each other, no matter what. Stop trying to push me away.”

He gently caressed my cheek. “I am angry, and so are Catch, Rémy, and Romeo. All of you were blinded by rage and ended up getting shot. You just had to go after Tyra. Now Arlis will remove your catheter, and I will clean you up so you can finally confront your prisoner.”

“So the girls left something for me?” I inquired.

It seemed like they didn’t kill Tyra yet. They probably tortured her within an inch of her life.

“She’s in the torture room down the hall. We’ll take her to the living room where you and the girls will take turns torturing her,” he paused. “Together.”

I released a breath and pain swept through my stomach. I resisted the urge to palm my wound. I didn’t want Ritchie to keep me in the bed longer.

“You’ve all been resting for a week.” He smirked.

My eyes widened. “What?”

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