Chapter Thirty-two

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My mind is traveling as fast as what I am drive. I press my foot on the gas making the car accelerate to an amazing eighty miles per hour. No one is on the road for some odd reason, but I don't care. All I care about right now is Brooklyn. Oh, Brooklyn please be okay. I'm silently praying I'm not too late and Elijah hasn't hurt her. I don't know what I would do if I saw her in pain. In pain because of me. I'm the one who was stupid and said to sign the company over to me. I didn't want to succumb to Elijah's demands. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I arrive at Brooklyn's house in a matter of minutes. I get out and pay no attention to anything, but that front door. The only thing keeping me from her.

I run and burst through is then freeze for a split second before tackling Elijah to ground. I throw punch after punch until he seems to of passed out.

I then turn my attention to Liam who is on the floor and bleeding. He was shot. Holy fuck what do I do?

Without thinking further I take off my shirt and put it toward the wound. I think this is what I saw in the movies.

"Paramedics are on their way!" I shout, but she doesn't hear me.

Brooklyn is sprawled on the floor and I think she is unconscious. Now, what do I do? Tend to Brooklyn or stay with Liam.

I choose to stay with Liam as he is the one bleeding. All I can do is stare at her beautiful tanned face until the paramedics get here.

"We are going to need another ambulance." One of the men says.

They tend to Liam first, allowing me to go to Brooklyn. I cradle her head in my lap and brush my knuckles over her peaceful face. She looks so peaceful.

I don't want them to take her from me when the other ambulance gets here, but I let them take her. I let them help her.

The police come in and arrest Elijah. He mumbles a pinch on incoherent words as he begins to wake up.

"Are you riding with her?" A woman asks as she jumps into the back of the ambulance.

"No. I have my car." I respond.

She nods her head then shuts the door before they speed off with the lights on.

I get in my car to follow the ambulance. To follow Brooklyn.


I stare off at the elevator as I watch it open and close. Open and close. Open and close. It does that fifty-eight times before I stop counting. Fifty-eight times of hoping she wakes up only to be disappointed once I don't hear anything.

The nurse knows to tell me when she wakes up. I asked her too. Maybe she forgot. Maybe I should go ask.

I get up as I watch the elevator open again. Heading over to a pale lady, in her late forties, behind a desk I ask, "Is there any word on Brooklyn West?"

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