Page 88 of Before Broken Vows

He bolts and calls back to me. "Stay here."

"Like hell I will," I snap, following him as he runs out of the room.

I follow him, heart in my throat. My limbs don't feel real anymore. I feel loose, anxiety coursing through me.

I chase after Theo as he swings open the front door and runs barefoot outside.

"Theo!" I call after him, but he doesn't slow.

He's running with focus, gun in hand, his boxer briefs the only clothing on his body. His back muscles tense with each stride as he sprints toward the black SUV parked at the end of the circular driveway, where his security team should be waiting, alert, ready to protect us.

I'm only halfway down the drive when Theo reaches the vehicle.

Then I see it.

Blood. Everywhere.

The black SUV's windshield is shattered, spider-web cracks radiating from several distinct holes. Bullet holes. The driver's side window is completely gone, just a jagged frame of glass remains. The passenger window is intact but painted crimson from the inside.

One of Theo's men is slumped forward over the steering wheel. Dark blood has pooled on the dashboard beneath his face, dripping down and out of view. His eyes are open, staring at nothing.

The other guard is pressed against the passenger window, his head at an unnatural angle, blood smeared in a grotesque streak across the glass where his body had slid down.

Bile rises in my throat. I double over, hands on my knees, fighting the urge to vomit.

"No, no, no," I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut, but the image is burned into my mind.

"Get back inside," Theo yells to me. "Now."

I frantically look around and something catches my eye. A splash of color against the greenery beside the villa.

I take a few steps before I see something that makes my world turn upside down.

A red-stained hand with a ring on it I know all too well.

"Marlena!" I scream.

I run. My legs move before my mind can process what I'm seeing. I don't even realize I've dropped to my knees until my skin scrapes against the gravel. Marlena lies to the right of the drive, half-concealed by one of the rosebushes. Her silver-gray hair is matted with dirt and blood. Her shirt is soaked in blood. Her eyes, black, stare blankly at the sky.

"No, no, no—" I yell.

This can't be happening. Not to her. Not the one woman in my life who became the family I desperately needed when I had noone. Marlena. My Marlena. The woman who knew every secret, who kept us safe, who loved Xander like her own.

I look down and see one slipper still on her foot, the other lying a few feet away.

Had she tried to run? To fight? To protect my son?

My son.

Where is my son? Have they hurt him, too?

My body starts to convulse. I can't breathe. My lungs feel like they're closing in.

This is my fault.

I should've left them hidden. Should've never come back. I brought this on her. On us.

"Xander," I sob out. My baby. My little boy.