Page 77 of Rage's Heart

My body went rigid. “Who is this? Where’s Mac?”

“My name is Megan. I—I work with McKenzie at Cypress Memorial.” Her voice cracked. “There’s been an incident. McKenzie’s been shot.”

My whole world stopped. Everything around me faded to white noise as those three words slammed into my chest like a freight train.

“What the fuck do you mean shot? Where is she?” My voice, strangled and harsh.

The woman, Megan, was crying now. “They’re rushing her into surgery. She—there was so much blood. You need to come quickly.”

The bottle slipped from my fingers, shattering against the concrete floor. I didn’t remember dropping it.

“I’m on my way.” I ended the call, already moving toward my bike.

Dread’s hand grabbed my shoulder. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Mac was shot. At the hospital.” The words tasted like acid. “I have to go.”

His face darkened. “Go. I’ll meet you there.”

I took off across the driveway and I jumped on my bike. The tires kicked up gravel as I tore out of the driveway, pushing the bike harder than I ever had.

My mind was a hurricane of rage and terror as I weaved through traffic. Nothing mattered except getting to my woman.

My baby.

Shot.

Bleeding.

I felt a tear trail down my cheek.

Fuck no. I couldn’t lose her. I wouldn’t fucking allow it. She was mine, she promised.

The ride to the hospital was a blur. I didn’t remember parking or running through the emergency entrance.

But suddenly I was just there, in the waiting room, my heart in my gut as I scanned the faces for anyone who could tell me where she was.

“Bryce.”

I turned to see Mac’s mom rising from a chair, her face pale. She crossed the room and, to my surprise, wrapped her arms around me.

“They’ve taken her into surgery,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “She was shot twice. Once in her side, once in her chest.”

My knees almost buckled. “Will she…?” I couldn’t finish the question.

Lillian pulled back, her eyes swimming with tears. “It’s bad. That’s all I know right now. The doctor said the next few hours were be critical.”

I nodded, unable to form words as the reality of what was happening crashed over me.

My beautiful, strong, stubborn woman was fighting for her life on an operating table because some piece of shit put bullets in her.

“Do they know who?”

Lillian shook her head. “No.”

My fists clenched at my sides.

“Hey. She’s strong,” Mac’s mom said, almost as if she could read my thoughts. Her hand clasped mine, squeezing tightly. “Our girl is strong.”

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