Page 218 of Never Fall for an Angel

Reaching for Mila’s hand, I hold it in mine, pressing my lips to the ring on her finger.

If something happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.

Gritting my teeth, I pull my pistol out and place it in my lap before I lean back and close my eyes.

Tomorrow, I have some tough decisions to make.

Right now, I focus on the feel of her skin against mine and quietly plot my revenge.

MILA

I’m underwater.

At least . . . that’s how it feels when my consciousness slips in, my mind waking up before my body.

I’m no longer in the dining room I remember from flashes of my memory. I’m in our bed.

Opening my eyes, I blink against the rush of nausea pooling in my stomach. My side is sore. My back and limbs ache. I feel like I rolled down a mountainside.

A soft whimper comes from beside me, and I raise my head when Phantom nudges my fingers, big brown eyes lit with worry.

“I’m okay, buddy. I survived.”

Unfortunately.

My body hurts when I pull myself up to sit. Looking around, everything’s the same as when I left it. The only difference is it’s empty, with no sign of my husband anywhere.

Odd.

I let out a quiet groan when I move my legs to the edge of the mattress before the reality of what happened dawns on me.

Oh. Right. Of course, I’m sore. I got stabbed.

My legs don’t want to move, but I force them, climbing to my feet. I’m shaky, my body threatening to give out, but I’ve got to pee like crazy.

Shuffling toward the bedroom door, I twist the handle, pulling it open, only to freeze at the sound of voices nearby.

“She doesn’t need to go to a hospital,” Christian growls from somewhere nearby. “Do you know how easily accessible she’ll be?”

“She wasn’t easily accessible with you?” a woman’s voice argues back, and my heart bottoms out in my chest.

I know that voice.

“Exactly, and look what the fuck happened? In case you forgot, this is partiallyyourfault. Need I remind you of the little temper tantrum you threw when I married her?”

“I told you to stop it, not marry her,” she scoffs.

“And yet, you did nothing to stop it from your end. I did what I had to do. You’re not the victim in this situation, Monica.”

Her voice is cool when she responds. “You’re going to kill her.”

“I’m keeping her alive,” Christian fires back when I round the corner from the bedroom, stopping dead in my tracks when my eyes land on the woman standing at our kitchen table.

“M-mom?”

She’s not real.

This isn’t real.

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