Page 70 of Second Draft

“Layla,” I scream her name as I race from room to room, flipping on the lights.

The living room is empty, and so is the dining room. Taking two steps at a time I slam open the bedroom doors, and then the bathroom, but there’s no sign of her.

“Layla,” I keep shouting, praying that there’s some mistake. That she’ll answer me.

My body goes ice cold when I walk into the kitchen and my shoes crunch on the broken glass beneath them. One of the cupboard doors is smashed in, and a chair lies on its side in the middle of the room.

Travis.I have no doubt that he did this. Rage and fear boil inside of me.

God. I should never have left her.

I pull out my cell. The battery is dead.

“Fuck.”

There’s a landline in the living room, but my fingers shake when I press the numbers, dialing my brother.

He picks up on the first ring. “Carter? Thank God–”

“What the fuck did you do to her?” I scream. “Where is she?”

“I’ve been trying to call you.” I can hear the guilt in his voice, which only confirms my worst fears.

This time when I speak, my voice is low and dangerous. “Where the fuck is she, Travis?”

I hear him swallow hard, before saying, “University Hospital. They took her straight into–”

I don’t let him finish, just hang up, and race to the car. I speed through the city, going through at least two red lights, and parking in a no park zone in front of the emergency doors.

Let them tow me.

“Layla Harper,” I say to the receptionist at the front desk, trying not to betray my panic, but it’s nearly impossible. “I need to know where she is.”

“One moment.” It takes what seems like an eternity for her to check her computer. She frowns at the screen, making my chest squeeze, then looks up at up at me. “Are you family?”

“I’m her husband.” A small lie, because the moment she gets out of this damn place, I’m going to make it a reality.

Her lips tighten before saying, “She’s in surgery right now.”

I groan, a gut-wrenching sound that has the woman looking at me with sympathy.

“There’s a private waiting room set aside for her family. Here…” She scribbles a number on a pad and hands it to me. “Just take the elevators to the fourth floor and make a left.”

I start towards the elevators, pushing the button impatiently until the doors open. I’m aware of the looks I’m getting, and I know if I don’t calm down, someone is going to call security.

She’s going to be all right. She has to be.I’m not helping her by freaking out when I don’t know what happened. But the second I see my brother I lose my fucking mind.

Travis is sitting alone in the small waiting room, his head in one hand, while cradling the other injured one in his lap. He looks up at me when I walk in, and his expression drips with guilt, his face stricken and pale.

Blood stains his pants, his shirt.

Layla’s blood.

Remorse is all over his face, but I don’t care.

He starts to stand. “Carter, I’m sorry–”

I grab him by the collar of his shirt, picking him up, and slamming him against the wall. “What did you do?”

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