Page 85 of Hearts Held

“Sir, what you want us to do with this one?” a goon asks, probably pointing toTilly.

Michael snorts in frustration. “I said GET THEM OUT AND CHAIN THEM!”

“Sir…?” the goon holding my right arm asks.

“WHAT!?” Michael yells.

“Sir, she’s, um, bleeding… Um…” he nervously exclaims, unable to fully state his observation.

Michael Sabini approaches me, crouching down.

“Holy shit. So I won’t just get to kill you—looks like I can tally my murder board for killing an Afton already.”

Slumped over in pain and confusion, I don’t understand what he means.

His hand grips my face. “Did you even know?” Michael studies my tear-ridden face then spits in it. “I know what a fucking miscarriage looks like, my sister had so fucking many and I remember the amount of blood she lost.” Then he laughs, the most disturbing sound I’ve ever heard, as I try to process the new information given to me.

The two men trudge forward, arm in arm with me as my feet drag along the gravel road to a large building. As they drag me, I glance at my groin to find a large crimson stain, seeping down my legs toward my ankles.

Fuck.

I didn’t know. As I recollect my last menstruation and the potential timeline, a new horrible feeling washes over me.

This is all my fault. We should have used protection, but we didn’t and now I’ve killedourbaby. The pain continues to lurch across my abdomen and torso, radiating more with the emotional and mental pain of this new loss.

I’m dragged to the middle of a room, surrounded by concrete and stone. It’s clearly still being built and not finished. The area is unfamiliar.

They force me to sit in a wooden chair, hands still tied behind my back. The force of them placing me within the chair causes shock waves to reverberate throughout my body.

Gasping in pain, I lock eyes with Tilly.

Her face, her beautiful face is bloodied, her nose crooked and her golden hair stained crimson. The gunshot wound is in her right upper leg, potentially too close to her artery with how much blood is leaking down her leg.

She needs a tourniquet.

I need tosave her.

That is so much blood. Too much blood.

We share a terrified look, wondering if these will be our last moments.

I wish I could speak.

Wish I could comfort Tilly, hold her and tell her everything will be fine, even though we know it could be the end.

One of the goons grabs Tilly by the back of her head and sneers, “I’m going to have fun with you.”

Her whimper breaks my heart.

A ripple of suffering crosses my stomach as I pathetically scream in agony. Then a large palm smacks me across my face, igniting it in heat and pain.

“Shut up, you fucking—”

Before he can utter another word, a large explosion knocked through the far wall, causing the door embedded in it to thrust forward and hit one of the goons. Tilly screams as chaos unfurled.

As the smoke settles, several figures move through the unfurling haze.

My heart lurches into my throat as I spot Biscuit, Bobby, Kenneth, Lyle and Lloyd.