Page 86 of The Cruel Heir
Not now.
Please, not now.
I looked down.
Blood.
Not just his.
“Oh God.”
Frankie paled. “She’s going into labor.”
Sterling’s face drained of color.
He lifted me in his arms, ignoring his own injuries. “Grab Laz,” he ordered. “Get him here.”
“Sterling-”
“I said, go get him.”
We made it out the side emergency exit, just as a fresh round of gunfire tore through the foyer. That was the last thing I saw before the world slipped away again.
ZARA
Icame to, when we reached the hospital, and everything was covered in blood. Sterling’s. Mine. There were smears of it on his torn tuxedo jacket, on my thighs, across the seats of the blacked-out car that had rushed us here.
The emergency room doors burst open, as Frankie screamed for a gurney. I could barely hold my head up, but I saw them, first responders, security, nurses, and Sterling.
Bleeding.
Wild.
Unstoppable.
“Get the fucking crash cart! She’s bleeding out! I don’t see movement!” Sterling shouted.
Two nurses ran toward us, but he blocked them with his body, one arm still wrapped around me.
“Don’t touch her unless your hands are clean, your soul is loyal, and you’ve never made a mistake in your fucking life!” he roared.
“Sir, we need to take her now-”
“You move one step closer without my permission, and I’ll put your heart on ice and mail it to your mother!”
Blood was dripping down his side now, fast and steady, soaking his shirt. He didn’t care. He didn’t even notice.
Doctors rushed forward. A young one tried to take my chart from the triage nurse, and Sterling lunged.
“I want a full trauma team. My daughter is crowning, and if she doesn’t make it, I will personally bankrupt your families. Every. Last. One.”
Security came next. One of them made the mistake of touching his arm, to guide him out of the way. Sterling grabbed the man by the throat, and slammed him into the wall.
“She goes where I go,” he hissed. “You separate us, I swear to God-”
“Sir-”
“Get Dr. Laz,” Sterling barked. “Or I start breaking ribs, until someone listens.”
