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“Jesus.” He glances over his shoulder. “I can’t think about that right now. We need to get Mom to the hospital.” He releases me, rushes to the back of the ambulance, and climbs in.

The sirens blare, making my ears pop. I stand there and watch the psychedelic colors illuminate the dark driveway until they’re gone. I turn around to find Gardenia in tears clinging to Jacob.

“We have to go,” I tell them.

After a beat, Jacob lets go of Gardenia and ushers her back to the car. I climb in again, hoping against hope that Freya makes it through this. Tristan doesn’t deserve to lose his mom after all he’s been through. And Freya, she has lived in fear for the last twenty years. She can’t die like this, at the hands of a selfish jerk like Hunter. It isn’t fair. Tristan doesn’t deserve this.

By the time we arrive at the hospital, the doctors have already taken Freya away to prep her for surgery. I have no idea how bad her bullet wound is. Judging by all the blood, it has to be bad. But if Tristan survived, maybe she can too.

“Tristan.” I cup his cheek. “How is she?”

“Going into surgery now. They don’t know how long it will be.” He releases a breath.

“Jesus.” Jacob walks in and offers Fisher a coffee. When he turns it down, he gives it to me. “It’s like déjà vu all over again.” He takes a long sip from his paper cup.

“She’ll make it.” Gardenia purses her lips, tears staining her cheeks. “Aunt Freya will pull through. I know it.” She crosses her arms over her chest as her gaze zeroes in on the nurses’ station. After a beat, she makes a bee line for it.

“Gardenia.” Fisher goes after her.

“I’m so sorry you’re going through this.” I bury my face in Tristan’s chest.

“It’s not your fault.” He holds me to him. “It’s mine.”

“Don’t say that. Hunter lost his mind.” I step back to look at him. “I don’t recognize him anymore.”

“He lost you. Of course he lost his mind.” He brushes the back of his fingers over my cheek. “Paloma.” My name on his lips sends a shock of dread through me. As if he’s about to say something that will destroy me. “I killed your father.”

“What?” I furrow my brows at him. “What are you talking about? Was Dad home just now?”

“I went to see him to end it once and for all. As long as he’s breathing, we won’t have peace.” His Adam’s apple bobs as his eyes darken. “I shot him. He was unconscious when the paramedics arrived. I think he was still breathing, but I’m not sure.”

I stare at him, feeling a vast emptiness in my chest. “You killed him?”

“Do you hate me?” He meets my gaze.

“Where is he?” I scan the faces and then it hits me. I left the house and didn’t even bother to ask if Dad was okay. He could be dead right now. “Where is Dad?”

“They don’t know.” Fisher strides toward us, while Gardenia stays back at the nurses’ station arguing with them about something I can’t quite catch. Fisher blows out a breath. “He never made it to this hospital.”

“Is there a private clinic where the paramedics would know to take him?” Tristan asks, pursing his lips.

Is he even sorry he shot Dad? Right now, all he’s worried about is that Dad isn’t here dying like he’s supposed to. I wipe my cheeks. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, if he’s not here, then where the hell did he go?” Gardenia ambles to her dad, seemingly as put out as the rest of the group. “Two ambulances made it back. Hunter and Freya are here. But no senator. What does that mean?”

“Fuck.” Jacob’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “He has a lot of enemies. Maybe he’s here under a different name. I mean, do we care? What are his chances of surviving? How bad was he?”

“I shot him in the throat.” Tristan runs a hand through his hair. “His chances are slim. But not zero.”

“Dad.” I cry into my hand. “I have to find him. He could die.”

“Really?” Gardenia rolls her eyes. “After all he’s done to you, you care about him?”

“He’s my dad. I don’t condone what he’s done. But he’s still my dad.” I say the words and immediately realize, I don’t mean them. I feel like crying, but I’m not sure I’m crying for him. “I don’t know. It seems cruel to just let him disappear.”

“A fake death would surely solve all his problems.” Tristan stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Now that he knows I’m alive, he has to know that his life as he knows it is over. He has nothing left. Once he steps down from his senate seat, he’ll be facing jail time.”

My hands turn cold at the idea of Dad in jail. Dad may not have Tristan’s fortune, but he has powerful friends and influence. I lift my head to look at Tristan. “You’re not going to give up on this until he’s dead or in jail, are you?”