Page 229 of Kiss the Villain

I run toward him at full speed, my focus narrowing until there’s nothing but the need to shield him. My body crashes into his, my back to Grant as the shot rings out.

The sound is deafening, a sharp crack splitting through the chaos.

Pain blooms in my side like an explosion, radiating outward in jagged waves.

But Gareth is fine.

I’m on top of him, and he’s fine.

It’s fine.

This is fine.

My ears ring, muffling the world around me. I hear Simone’s distant voice—panicked, shouting orders. That’s good. Maybe she brought more men. She’ll protect him. She likes Gareth, enough to spill everything about me if it means earning his forgiveness.

He’ll be fine.

Gareth’s frantic tears grip my face, and salty droplets slip into my mouth as they stream down his cheeks.

“Kay…Kayde…no…no…you fucking idiot. What have you done?” His voice cracks, filled with anguish I’ve never heard before.

I love his voice. But not like this. Not when it’s laced with so much pain.

“Kay…please…fuck! You said you wouldn’t die. You promised…youpromisedme!”

His hand presses tightly against my side, futilely trying to stop the flow of blood. He’s shaking all over like a live wire.

“Please…don’t go…I’m begging you…please…don’t leave me. Baby,please…”

I lift a hand to his face, smearing his beautiful skin with blood as I try to wipe away the tears.

Don’t cry,I want to tell him.

But no words come out.

The world blurs, darkening at the edges as the pain dulls into a distant throb. All I can do is let the darkness swallow me whole, carrying me away from his broken voice, the tremor in his hands, and the tears that feel heavier than the bullet in my side.

39

GARETH

I’m staring at the red on my hands.

At the blood.

Hisblood.

My Kayden’s blood that flowed out of him persistently no matter how much I tried to stop it. I removed my shirt and pressed on it. I used both my hands, but it still soaked everything and escaped him.

Escapedme.

The crimson red is dry now and etches into the creases of my palms, tinting my fingernails, slipping under the skin, lodged there.

My hands are shaking uncontrollably.

My hands have never shook before. Not when I held Gilbert underwater. Not when Mr. Laurent died before my eyes. Not even when I killed David in cold blood.

But now, I can’t stop the trembling, not after I felt the sticky liquid against my fingers.

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