Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

February 14 th

10:47 P.M.

Her head felt like it was going to explode.

It was like someone had filled it up with dynamite and set it off.

Again and again.

The pain wouldn't go away, and Ella couldn’t focus on anything else.

There was a part of her brain that knew she had to. Knew that something bad had happened, and she needed to snap to it and be aware of her surroundings because she was in danger.

But it was too hard to focus on anything around the relentless pounding inside her skull.

Groaning, she tried to look around her but all she could see was black.

Thick darkness that felt more like fog.

Turning her head to try to see if she could see something in a different direction, the arrow of pain that speared between her eyes and then directly down her entire body had her groaning and trying to stay as still as possible.

No. You have to move.

The voice whispered through her mind.

It was strong enough that Ella willed herself a little strength and managed to shift her head again. Just a fraction, but it made no difference, darkness was there too.

Everywhere.

Consuming her.

Maybe …

She’d gone blind?

Was that why her head hurt so badly?

Had she injured it and it had done something to her vision?

Fear pulsed inside her, shoving aside a little of the pain. She had to know how badly she was hurt. Had to know if there was a way to fix it.

Lifting her hand took several attempts to get it up off the … ground?

It felt like the ground. Hard and unyielding, definitely not something soft like a bed or a couch.

Somehow, she managed to lift it and bring it to her head. Pressing it to the epicenter of pain, a spot on her right temple, she felt something wet and sticky.

Blood.

Had to be blood.

Definitely injured.

But how?

Why?

Where?

What?

The questions rumbled around inside her head but there was no answer to them. Ella had no idea what had happened to her.

Still, the persistent nagging of her subconscious urged her to wake up. To do something. She wasn't safe.

It was screaming that at her, but she still didn't know why.

“Have to move,” she mumbled aloud. Her voice sounded too loud, and she winced as the sound reverberated inside her.

Using her hands, she pressed her palms to the ground and shoved herself up into a sitting position.

The world did what felt like a couple of sickening loops around her and the pain in her head was almost so bad she just sunk back down and gave up, but something urged her to keep going.

It was important.

Moving.

Waking up.

Figuring things out.

Keep going.

Balancing her weight as best she could on one of her hands, with her other hand, Ella felt around for something she could use as leverage to get to her feet. When her palm brushed across something sharp, she winced and snapped her eyes in the direction of whatever had caused her pain and startled in surprise when she could see again.

Closed.

Her eyes had been closed.

That’s why she couldn’t see. She wasn't blind, she just hadn't thought to check if her eyes were open.

Feeling stupid by the blunder, and also worried—if she wasn't even aware enough to know if her eyes were open or closed that could not be a good thing—Ella looked around her. It really was dark, but not the pitch black of before. She could see piles of what looked like rubble all around her, dust was in the air, and slowly memories filtered back into her mind.

The mole at Prey. The concert. The bomb. Running so no one else got caught in the explosion. Miguel calling her name. Telling him to stay back. Dora’s growl that it was all over. Being lifted off her feet and then slammed back down into the ground. Then … nothingness.

When Dora set off the bomb and Ella had been caught up in the explosion, she must have hit her head.

She had a concussion.

It was the only way to explain the shooting pain between her eyes and the grogginess and confusion.

Still, she had to get up.

Had to find out if Dora was dead.

The bomb had been strapped to her so she had to be since the force of the explosion would have started right around her body. But she had to check. Had to be sure. Had to know if it really was over.

And Miguel.

What if he …?

No.

She couldn’t let herself go there.

He was far enough away that he wouldn't have been killed or seriously injured when it went off.

He had to have been.

Because there was no way she could handle it if he’d been hurt or worse because he was coming to her rescue.

Somehow, Ella found the strength to get to her feet, although she swayed so badly it was a wonder she didn't fall right back down again.

Dora had been close when the bomb went off, she had to be somewhere nearby now. All she had to do was check the woman was dead and then find her way back to Miguel.

Only it felt so much harder than it sounded.

Her legs didn't want to cooperate, and she was so dizzy that remaining upright took almost all the energy she had left. Plus, debris was everywhere, and she kept stumbling over it in the dark.

It wasn't until her foot bumped into something softer than the piles of concrete and wood all around her that she realized she’d found Dora.

Even in the dark, she could see the blood.

Dead.

The woman had to be dead.

There was no way there could be so much blood and she was still breathing.

Unable to bring herself to touch the body, Ella kept moving.

Get to Miguel.

Miguel is safe.

Miguel will make everything better.

Get to Miguel.

The words ran in a loop in her mind as she shuffled slowly forward, moving barely an inch at a time.

“Ella.”

Her name floated to her through the darkness.

It sounded like Miguel.

Calling to her.

If he was yelling for her then that meant he was alive. That he was okay.

Relief had her knees buckling and she threw her hands out to catch herself before she could fall. Ella knew that if she fell, she wouldn't be getting back up. Already she was hovering precariously close to unconsciousness.

“Ella, if you can hear me, I need you to answer me, honey,” Miguel called out. The fear in his voice was so potent that it sank down into her, stoking her own fears.

She had to answer him.

Had to let him know she was alive.

Only when she opened her mouth, no sound came out.

No.

She had to try. Miguel was worried and she could make it better.

“Miguel,” she croaked, continuing to move in the direction his voice had come from.

“Ella? Was that you, honey? Say my name again.” Alongside the fear there was a command in his voice she was powerless to disobey.

“I'm h-here,” she mumbled.

“I hear you, honey. I hear you. Just hold on, okay? We’re getting to you as quickly as we can.”

The relief in his voice gave her a small injection of strength and she reached a wall of rubble. On the other side she could hear voices. Not just Miguel’s but several voices.

“Miguel,” she whispered, resting her palms against the debris.

“Just here, honey. I'm coming, okay? Are you hurt?”

“My head,” she murmured, sinking down to rest against the wall.

“Ambulance is already on its way. We’ll get you out of here, get you to the hospital, and make you all better. All I need you to do is hold on for me a couple more minutes. Can you do that, honey?”

“Yes.” At least she hoped so. Darkness was encroaching on the edges of her vision, ready to steal her sight with unconsciousness all over again.

Ella fought against it.

Clung to the knowledge that Miguel was just on the other side of the rubble and that any moment now he would be there, holding her in his arms, and everything would be okay.

Just as she almost lost her fight with the darkness, a sudden shaft of light had her head snapping in that direction and the most beautiful sight met her eyes.

Miguel’s face.

Peeking at her through a hole in the wall of debris.

“Hey, beautiful, you’ve never looked better,” Miguel teased, even as concern danced in his dark eyes.

Ella huffed a small chuckle and went to move closer. She needed to touch him, needed to feel that he was real and not a figment of her scrambled mind.

Only she sensed something behind her.

Movement.

But she was the only one in there.

No one should be moving.

Then looking more dead than alive, Dora Hibbert appeared, a huge chunk of concrete in her hand that she was swinging directly toward Ella’s head.

February 14 th

10:51 P.M.

Like a zombie raised from the dead, Dora Hibbert appeared behind Ella.

In slow motion, Miguel was forced to watch as the woman raised a huge chunk of concrete and swung it toward Ella’s head.

Another blow after the one she’d already taken could easily be enough to end the life of the woman who had so tenderly reached into his chest and taken hold of his heart.

There was no way he could stop this from happening.

Ella was between him and Dora, there was no way he could get his weapon in his hand and line up a shot where he wasn't going to hit his woman before Dora could take Ella out.

It was her intention.

He could see that in the manic eyes that seemed to glow in the light filtering into the cavern where Ella and Dora were trapped.

“Dora, don’t!” he screamed, knowing the woman wasn't going to listen.

Ella whimpered and he was sure the sound would stay with him for the rest of his life. The last sound he would ever hear her make.

There was nowhere for Ella to go.

She was trapped.

Even with a dozen men digging through the rubble, they couldn’t get to her in time.

No moment in his life had ever been this horrific. Miguel would take being nine years old and getting shot every single time over this.

The concrete swung closer to Ella’s head, seconds away from making contact. Miguel screamed Ella’s name as he frantically tore through the wall of rubble preventing him from getting to her.

Then, at the very last second, just as he was sure he was about to watch his girl take her final breath as the blow to the head stole her from him, Ella sprang into action.

Somehow, she’d found her own weapon, and she swung it as she launched at her would-be murderer.

Moving quicker than Dora, and catching the other woman off-guard, Ella slammed the concrete she held in her hand into Dora’s head.

The sickening crunch was another sound that would stay with him for the rest of his life.

At least the sound of concrete hitting bone, splintering it, wasn't his girl’s skull being shattered.

Functioning clearly in a terror-fueled autopilot, Ella didn't stop after one strike.

Again and again, she slammed the concrete into Dora’s head.

Following the woman to the ground, she kept going.

Blow after blow.

Desperate to get to his girl, Miguel renewed his efforts to get through the rubble, and as soon as there was a hole big enough for him to scramble through that was exactly what he did.

“Honey, I'm here now. You can stop, Ella,” he said softly, reaching out to grasp her wrist to still her.

While he’d been worried she might fight him, fueled by fear and survival as she was, Ella didn't. As soon as his fingers circled her wrist, she dropped the bloody chunk of concrete and all but collapsed into his arms.

Breathing hard, shaking all over, huge violent shudders, Ella sobbed in his arms as he pulled her close and held her tight against his chest. She felt every bit as good as he’d been imagining. Not just good, holding her felt right.

Almost too right.

Because even though he could acknowledge Ella as his, that didn't magically solve all his problems. He still had to find a way to make sure that he was never going to be a threat to this beautiful, brave woman he clutched against him like the precious thing she was.

“Is … is she … d-dead?” Ella asked through her tears.

“She’d dead,” Rocco answered for him as the other man knelt beside Dora Hibbert.

“You killed her, honey,” he told his trembling woman.

“Killed the mole and a weapons trafficker. Girl, you are on fire,” Rocco teased, and Ella hiccupped a laugh.

“You're amazing,” Miguel agreed, smoothing a hand down Ella’s tangled locks.

When she looked up at him, he knew he was done for. Whatever it took he would find a way to be with this woman. Whatever personal demons he had to exorcise he would do. Anything. Walk through the fires of Hell themselves if he had to.

But he couldn’t walk away from her.

Couldn’t not give this thing between them a chance.

“I-I was s-scared,” Ella stammered. “I thought … I th-thought you w-were d-dead.”

That right there was why he had no choice but to find a way to be with her. Even though she was the one blown up, the one trapped with a deranged would-be killer, she had been more worried about him.

“No, honey. I'm okay, and now you're safe, too. Dora won't ever hurt you again.” Neither would anything else. He was never letting his girl get hurt again. For the rest of his life, he would find a way to protect her from pain.

“Ambulance is just pulling up outside,” Phantom said through the slowly enlarging hole in the wall of rubble that had kept him from his girl for what felt like hours.

“Time to get you to the hospital,” he told Ella, palming her cheek and letting his fingertips caress her soft skin. Blood coated the other side of her face, and various other places on her exposed arms. Her dress was torn, even in the thin light he could see bruises beginning to form, and she’d lost both her shoes. Still, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on, and for some reason, she seemed to be interested in him.

A miracle.

No other way to describe how a woman like Ella could want a man like him.

“Miguel?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I think I'm going to pass …”

Ella’s voice trailed off as she did indeed pass out, collapsing against him. Catching her weight as she fell, Miguel swung her up into his arms. His heart raced in his chest, head injuries could be tricky. Just because she’d been awake, talking, walking, and reacting, didn't mean that she was out of danger. Didn't mean she was going to be okay.

“Here, let’s get her out of here,” Rocco said with more calm than Miguel could muster as he guided them toward the hole.

Big enough now to easily pass Ella through into Phantom’s waiting arms, the seconds where someone else was holding what was his while he also climbed through to the other side felt far too long. There was no way he could go the rest of his life without Ella by his side.

As soon as he was on his feet on the other side of the remains of the wall of rubble Phantom handed Ella back to him. With a nod of thanks he took off toward the nearest door, desperate to get Ella the medical attention she needed.

Handing her off to the paramedics was hard. If it wasn't for Rocco informing them that Miguel would be riding with her, he was sure he would have been denied. If that had happened he would have lost it.

Just not holding her was enough to have his heart hammer painfully in his chest.

This woman consumed him, and it was both a blessing and a curse.

Staying by her side as she was treated in the emergency room, taken for tests and scans, then finally settled in a quiet, dark private room where she could rest, his mind was constantly running through scenarios, trying to figure out how he could keep Ella in his life but also ensure he would never be a threat to her.

In the end, the only answer he could come up with was one he didn't like.

One Ella might not be able to accept.

How was he going to convince her that this was the only way?

Being an addict was for life. It wasn't something you just got over, something that just went away on its own. It was a battle you would fight every single day.

It was a battle he wanted to fight.

Would fight the best way he knew how.

Which was why he knew that this was something he was going to have to do whether Ella could understand why or not.

Hurting her wasn't an option. Risking her safety and her happiness was not something he was prepared to do. This was the best way he could think of to make sure it didn't happen.

The problem was in doing it, he was going to risk losing his girl anyway.

No.

He had to believe that Ella would trust him to know what he had to do, that she would be willing to go along with this so they could have the future he was sure they both wanted.

Leaning over the bed where his girl was sleeping peacefully, Miguel brushed his knuckles across her cheek, then touched his lips to her forehead. “Please understand, honey. Please know I don’t want to do this, but I have to. Please forgive me.”

Then he touched his lips to hers in a soft kiss and prayed it wouldn't be the last one he ever got to give her.