God, I want to see Tanner, to tell him how much I love him.
“You know what you have to do to make me love you,” Anthony says to Bridget and takes a deep breath, calming himself down. “Make it look like an accident. Or like she did it herself.”
Tears continue to run down Bridget’s face as she pulls a butcher knife out of her bag and walks to me.
I’m sorry, she mouths.
“Don’t do this.” I’m not begging. I’m not whining. It’s a calm statement, but Bridget just shakes her head and holds my hand down while the blade hovers over my wrist. “He won’t love you, even if you do this. You’ll be charged with murder, and he’ll go free. You’re just doing his dirty work, Bridget.”
“No,” she says and sniffs. “It’s the only way.”
The blade touches my skin but doesn’t pierce it, which is a miracle, because her hand is shaking violently.
“For fuck’s sake,” Anthony says as he stomps over and wraps his hand around Bridget’s wrist, and pushes.
The pain is swift and sharp as the blade slices into my wrist, through the tender flesh and into tendons and ligaments…and veins.
When the blade swipes out, the blood starts. I swallow hard and strain against the restraints.
“Oh, God,” Bridget murmurs. “I hate the sight of blood.”
“You’ll finish it, or I’ll do the same to you and that brat growing inside of you.”
Bridget’s eyes flash and then fill with hurt as she turns to me.
“Told you,” I whisper, feeling queasy. I’m not a fan of blood either, and it’s running in a small river down my hand.
“DO IT!” Anthony screams, and Bridget jumps, then walks to my other side.
Just when I think I’m about to pass out, people pour into the room from both the front and the rear entrances.
“Freeze!” I think that’s Callum’s voice. “Drop the weapon, and put your hands on your heads!”
“Baby.” Tanner’s suddenly at my side, his hands all over me. “Where are you hurt? What—oh, God. She’s cut! We need an ambulance.”
“Wrist,” I whisper, feeling funny.
“You’re okay,” he assures me and pushes something over the wound. It hurts, but I know it’ll stop the bleeding.
I look over to see Anthony on his stomach on the ground, glaring up at me. Bridget is sitting on a pew, her hands tied behind her back, and she continues to cry.
“Feel bad for her,” I say, as Tanner wraps me in his arms. “He’s ruined her life.”
“Yeah, well, she almost killed you, so I’m just going to be angry for a while.” He kisses my face, my lips, as someone unties me from the chair.
“How bad?”
“Scott?”
“Right here,” he says and tosses the ropes aside. “How bad is it?”
“One wrist slashed,” Tanner says briskly. “And she’s in shock. Probably from the whole incident more than the cut.”
“Cut kinda hurts,” I remind him.
“Sarah!”
June and Luna are here but are asked to go outside by the cops while they secure the scene.