Chapter 23

Chloe

My legs burn as I sprint across the parking lot and up the tiny hill to the other property. I know that was Yasmin. I know it in my bones.

"Yasmin!"

I hear Dom call for me again, but I can't look back. My friend is in trouble, and it is entirely my fault.

I don't care what Dom said. The only reason Yasmin is in this situation is because my fucked-up past is dragging her into its depths.

When I reach the top of the hill, I see two figures a few yards ahead. One is limp on the ground, being held up by the other.

Oh please, no.

The guys are right behind me as I pull to a stop, just shy of reaching Yasmin and whoever this asshole is.

"Stop!"

The guy looks up. He's wearing a ski mask, but I can see the glint of a knife in his grip.

Dom puts an arm in front of me to keep me from getting closer. "Cops are on their way, fucker. So drop the knife."

My eyes track to the growing red stain on Yasmin's dress, and my heart nearly stops.

"Oh, don't worry about me." The masked man looks down at Yasmin, dropping her. "Worry about your friend."

The hard smack that sounds as Yasmin falls to the ground cuts straight through to my heart, and I fight against Dom's hold.

Sean and Jason appear in my peripheral vision, and I realize they're moving to flank the guy.

He catches on quick, however, and starts to make a break for it.

"Noble sends his regards, Chloe. Ticktock!"

He's out of range for Sean or Jason to grab him, and then I can't focus anymore, the tears stinging my eyes and stealing my vision.

At once, Dom lets go and I launch myself for Yasmin, rushing to her side. She's unconscious, blood seeping from a wound to her abdomen.

"Dom! Help!"

He's there before I even finish the words. Surveying Yasmin's injury, Dom rips off his shirt, leaving him in a tank, and presses the fabric to her midsection.

Yasmin releases a tiny moan, and Dom nods. "I know it hurts, but I need to push hard. Ambulance is coming."

I take Yasmin's hand, which is covered in blood, and squeeze. "I'm so sorry. So, so sorry."

Abruptly, Sean is there, breathing hard. "No sign of the guy. Must've had a ride nearby."

Jason speaks from my other side, and I'd completely forgotten he was here.

"Bus is three minutes out. I've got the others closing down the club."

"Good. Find Craig. He's got to be out here."

Jason runs off, obeying Dom's command as fast as he can. Tears stream down my face, and the sticky, clammy feeling of Yasmin's hand makes my chest ache.

"Dom, her fingers are cold." My voice is small.

"It's going to be okay. The ambulance is almost here."

Tension pounds through me for several long moments before I hear the sound of sirens.

Flashing red and blue lights appear, and then there are people in uniform vests scrambling around us and directing me out of the way.

I watch as a large bandage is pulled out of a bag, and several more are retrieved by someone else. They replace Dom's hands carefully and then wind the longer strip around Yasmin.

Someone is talking to me, and I look into the face of a young guy in one of those vests. I can't understand what he's saying, like hearing the adults talking from the Peanuts cartoon.

My attention snaps back to Yasmin when I see her being put on a stretcher and wheeled toward the ambulance.

"Yasmin!"

"It's okay." I look back at the guy, his words suddenly making sense. "We're taking her to the hospital. Saint Martin's. Do you have someone to look after you?"

I shake my head. "Me?"

"You're in shock, ma'am. I don't recommend driving."

Looking around the parking lot, I can't process who was just there. Then someone calls out.

"Over here! I got Craig!"

The EMT—yeah, that's what they're called—that I've been talking to takes off toward where Jason yelled from, and I'm left standing there.

It's only a few seconds before Dom is at my side, but I can't say anything. I just meet his eyes, images of Yasmin's bloody body blaring in my mind.

"Let's get you home."

"Yasmin. I can't leave…" I shake my head. "Hospital, please."

Dom hangs his head for a moment but then looks up again and nods. "Okay."

As the ambulance takes off, we follow right behind it to the hospital. The car is silent the entire trip, moving in a blur of lights and stop signs, and then we rush out of the Rolls through the emergency doors at Saint Martin's.

We run to the desk, and Dom steps forward to speak to the nurse.

"Hello. We're here for Yasmin Stark. She was just brought in for a stab wound. Can you find out what's going on?"

The nurse looks us over, hesitating to give out the information, but then she eyes our hands. I don't know why she stares at me for a moment, so I look down.

Blood. I'm covered in it.

"Just a minute." The woman scans her computer for what feels like years. "All right. She's being rushed to the OR to repair the injury. She'll be in surgery for a while, so I can get you an update when she's out."

"Thank you."

Dom pulls me to the side to sit down in one of the small waiting room chairs. Everything around me is so white.

"I'm going to ask about Craig. Can you wait here?"

I look up at him and nod.

As he walks off, my eyes find the floor again, and I just sit there. Time stretches into something I can't process, and my hands shake harder and harder.

Ticktock. Ticktock. That's what he said. What Eth— No, I can't.

"All right. So Craig's going to be fine. A concussion, but he'll be all right. Yasmin is still in surgery. Do you want to stay? Or do you want to go wash up?"

My stomach pinches down hard, and I have to shut my eyes against the bright lights surrounding me.

"Chloe?"

Oh, Dom is there. I look over at him, barely able to keep my eyes cracked open.

"What?"

"Okay, I'm taking you home. I'll make sure to check in on Yasmin. Get all the details."

All I can do is nod. Exhaustion hangs heavy on me like a lead vest, and I do want to clean off. I can't keep looking at all this red.

Somehow, we're back in the car in a blink. Nothing is flowing properly, and I struggle to remember how the seat belt works.

"Okay, home."

Dom is behind the wheel, driving the car out of the parking lot, and I guess to his place. Yasmin will be alone at the hospital.

Because of me.

"It wasn't because of you. Remember, these are Ethan's actions, and he needs to be the one punished for them. And all his fucking thugs."

I look over. I thought that was in my head, but apparently, I said the words out loud.

"I want a shower."

"As soon as we get home, babe."

A shower does happen as soon as we get inside the penthouse. Dom helps me strip off all the stained clothes, and they go right into the trash.

The water is steaming and beyond hot when I step under the spray.

I need it hot. I need lots of soap.

Squirting a huge handful of body wash into my hand, I lather and lather until I can't see any red on my palms or fingers.

I scrub it over my entire body, pouring out more of the soap for each new part of me. I scrub and scrub.

It goes everywhere I can reach, and then it goes on my hands again.

The blood was everywhere. There was so much of it.

I don't need to, but I wash my hair, combing through shampoo and then conditioner until there are zero tangles or snags left.

For a moment, I don't know what I did with my clothes. I turn the water off, and as I pull back the curtain to grab a towel, some sweats and a hoodie have been left on the counter for me.

Where is my work uniform? Did I leave it there?

But then I remember the clothes in the trash. Yasmin. He sent someone to hurt her. To kill her. He'll do it again.

Meeting my reflection in the mirror, I feel hollowed out—like the shell of a person walking around.

"You can't stay here. You'll get Dom killed."

It's not so much a conscious thought; the words simply fall out of my mouth. I didn't even really think about them before suddenly, they were a reality.

But it's true.

I wipe myself with the towel absently and then pull on my dry clothes. I'll go to bed first and get a few hours of sleep.

Then, I'll go.