Page 97 of Innocent Intentions

Margot is gone. Her eyes are clenched shut. She’s facing the door, but she doesn’t see me. She isn’t looking. She isn’t moving. She isn’t fighting.

She’s given up.

My spitfire is out of fight. They took her fight from her.

I can’t breathe.

A bullet tears through the head of the man on her legs before I even realize I pulled the trigger. His body jerks, then collapses on top of her.

On top of Margot.

I almost fucking vomit.

Roman’s shots go off. Two more bodies hit the ground.

I don’t know if they’re dead. I don’t care.

Roman moves past me, gripping one of the men by the collar. “Go to her,” he mutters gently in a tone I’ve never heard from him before.

A tone that tells me just how bad this is.

I don’t remember moving. One second, I’m frozen. The next, I’m shoving the dead bastard off her, nearly breaking at the sight of blood smeared across her skin.

I know it’s not hers. But it doesn’t matter.

Margot. My Margot.Covered in blood.

She’s limp. Her arms stay where he pinned them, like she’s still trapped there. Her breathing is slow and weak.

She’s not here.

She doesn’t even flinch when I touch her, gently pulling her pants back into place, trying to close her torn shirt.

Nothing.

I failed her.

I failed her.

I let her run. Right into this.

I wasn’t there to protect her.

I lift her into my arms and hold her so tightly I think I might crush her, but I can’t help it. She’s small, fragile, breakable in a way I never want to see again.

She should be cursing me out. Kicking. Fighting.

But there’s nothing.

I feel like I’m holding a mannequin.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t let her see how wrecked I am.

“Margot, sweetheart. My sweet girl. Are you in there?” My voice breaks.

Nothing.

I swallow back the terror ripping through me, and try again, rocking her gently. “Please, sweetheart. Open your eyes for me.”

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