Page 135 of Tangled in Vows

My man.

My husband.

“I got you, baby. It’s all over now. Did you get hurt?” Holden picks me up like I weigh nothing and rushes back the way he came.

“I’m okay.” I sag into the safety of his hold, letting the relief course through me. It’s bittersweet and overwhelming, leaving me trembling as the chaos around me fades into the background.

He walks us through the Jack-and-Jill bathroom to the guest bedroom on the other side, and then we’re out in the hallway.

Voices come our way from the stairs, but all I can focus on is gulping in lungfuls of air.

“Up here.” Holden hollers. Detective O’Neal comes into view with several cops and paramedics behind him. “Down the hallway, first bedroom on the right.”

O’Neal shakes his head at us. “You guys really just don’t know how to have a normal life, do you?”

Holden tenses around me, and I get the distinct feeling he might have punched the detective—once again—if it wasn’t for me.

“Shut up, O’Neal.” He tilts his chin in the direction of where we just came from. “Go do your job and tell me if she’s dead or not. And I need a paramedic for Olivia.”

“Fair enough.”

Holden ignores my protests and continues walking with firefighters running past us. Downstairs, he gently lays me on the couch and gets in my face. “You are a terrible listener. The absolute worst. Why did we determine a safe word if you don’t use it?”

Tears burn my eyes, turning the edges of my vision slightly blurry. “I’m sorry. It all happened so fast. I didn’t know she hada knife or she had doused the room and herself in something. I never smelled anything.”

Holden sighs. “She must have used natural gas or something else odorless. I can’t believe she got so close to hurting you. I never would have agreed to this idea had we known how crazy she is.”

I brush my hand over the side of his face, careful to avoid the many injuries he suffered when he staged the video of his death. He ignored all of my protests about him not having to get beaten up, telling me repeatedly that it was necessary to make it look authentic and that he’d heal in no time.

Shit, we didn’t even know if it would work to draw out the culprit.

But he’s here. We all are. In one piece, more or less. And Stormy is safely waiting at home. “I knew you’d have my back and rescue me before anything bad could happen. And you did.”

He closes his eyes and leans into my touch.

I savor the contact and inhale deeply, my lungs immediately protesting with a round of coughs.

Holden pulls back. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

He calls for the paramedic and stays beside me while the middle-aged man checks me out. Thankfully, my oxygen levels aren’t low enough to be a genuine concern, so an oxygen mask, staying hydrated, and rest will do for now.

The moment the paramedic leaves, Holden scoops me up to sit on the couch with me in his lap. He’s careful not to disturb my mask, and I revel in the immediate relief the cool air offers me. It’s calming and soothes the tightness in my chest. That and the fact this nightmare finally seems to be over has all the tension leaving my body at once. My body is like Jell-O, and I melt against Holden. He’s the only one who can keep me together.

He doesn’t leave my side, holding me gently while I fill my lungs with clean air.

When O’Neal returns, Holden’s fingers flex around me. “Did she make it?”

The detective sighs. “They aren’t sure yet. She’s lost a lot of blood from the knife wound and has suffered severe burns. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

As much as I hate her for everything she put us through, a small, forbidden part of me almost wishes she won’t make it. Not because I want her dead but because she clearly doesn’t want to be alive anymore. It would be a clean cut, severing the connection entirely. On the other hand, I also want her to pay for what she did to me. To us.

Someone calls O’Neal as Archer and Jax join us, wasting no time reprimanding me the same way Holden did. And I don’t blame them because I get it. I really do. I’d be livid too, if Holden put himself in danger. Or any of them.

I weakly lift my left hand in front of me. “In my defense, the video of Holden screwed more with my head than I thought it would. I told you guys I should have watched it before.”

Holden grimaces and presses a kiss to my temple. “Sorry, Hurricane. I already told you it was necessary to make it believable. We had to make sure the person who hired the hit on me wouldn’t have any doubts about my death.”

“I know. I still didn’t like it.” My throat tightens just thinking about him lying on that filthy floor, all bloody and bruised.

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