Chapter 30 30
STEVE POV
I looked down at how hard Freya was holding my wrist. Her fingers were digging into my skin, shaking, and the last thing I expected from her right now was to see a gaze of pity for this piece of shit on the floor.
I looked at her face, seeing the way she was looking at Jax—one of my best men, a guy who doesn't know how to stop until I tell him to. She was pleading with me. With just a look, she was begging me to stop him from shooting Mark. After everything this ass had done to her, I looked at the shattered bottle on the floor and then back at the blood dripping down her forehead. I couldn’t believe she still had enough heart to want him to breathe.
It made my blood boil. It made me want to grab the gun from Jax and finish it myself just to teach her that some people don't deserve mercy.
“Steve... please...” she whispered.
She barely managed to get the words out. Her voice was thin, like paper tearing, and before she could even finish the sentence, a dark drop of blood leaked out of her nostril. Her eyes rolled back as she reached up to hold her forehead, her body going completely limp.
“Freya
I moved faster than I ever have in my life, catching her before she could hit the glass-covered floor. I pulled her against my chest, her head falling back against my shoulder. She was out cold. The stress of this pathetic house had finally broken her.
I looked up at Jax. He was still steady, the barrel of the Glock inches from Mark’s skull, his finger twitching on the trigger as he waited for my word. I looked at Mark’s unconscious, miserable face, and for a split second, I wanted to give Jax the nod and end the threat forever.
But Freya was a dead weight in my arms, and her blood was staining my shirt. She was the only thing that mattered.
I gave Jax a sharp, silent look—the look that told him to stand down. Not today. I hoisted her up, carrying her bridal style, and walked her out of that graveyard of a marriage without looking back. Every step I took felt like a lead weight in my chest. I kept blaming myself. I never wanted her to leave the house in the first place. Every instinct I had told me to lock her in the bedroom, but I’d held back. I didn't want to look like I was controlling her. I wanted her to feel free.
What a fucking mistake that was.
The moment she’d driven out in that Bugatti, I’d been a mess of nerves. I had asked Jax to follow her at a distance while I stayed home, staring at the GPS tracker on my screen like a madman. But the second I saw her stop at this address, my gut turned over. The tracker wasn't enough. Watching a dot on a screen wasn't enough to keep her safe from a coward.
I’d raced down here like a bat out of hell, and seeing her like this—shattered and bleeding—was my penance for trying to play nice.
“Get the car ready,” I growled at Jax as he stepped out behind me, holstering his weapon.
I looked down at her pale face as I reached the driveway. I didn't care about the divorce or the legalities anymore; I will handle it from here.
Mark was lucky he was still breathing, but if she didn't wake up soon, I was going to come back and burn this entire neighborhood to the ground with him inside it.
“I’ve got you, Freya,” I muttered, pulling her tighter against me. “I’m never letting you leave my sight again.”
The drive back was a blur of high-speed turns and the sound of my own heavy breathing. I didn’t put her in the back seat. I kept her right there in the front with me, her head resting against my shoulder while I steered with one hand, the other gripped firmly around her cold fingers.
I was driving like a man possessed.
"Hang on there, Freya," I muttered, my voice cracking in the quiet of the cabin.
I glanced at her. The blood from her nose had stopped, but the smudge of red against her pale skin was a brand on my soul. I had spent years building an empire so I would never have to feel helpless again, yet here I was, terrified of a woman who looked like she was made of glass.
"Stupid," I hissed at myself, the word tasting like poison. "So fucking stupid."
I kept blaming myself. I never should have let her drive out of my sight. I wanted to be the "good guy." I didn't want to look like I was controlling her or keeping her in a cage, so I let her go. I let her walk right into a trap because I was too worried about her opinion of me.
I reached for my phone, my thumbs blurring over the screen as I texted Diana.
“Take Luna to the north wing. Keep her in the playroom. If she asked Freya. Tell her - her mom is sleeping.”
I have to do that because I knew Freya. If she woke up right now and saw her daughter, she would wipe the blood off, hide the bruises, and play the "strong woman" role and refuse to rest. She will definitely put Luna’s comfort above her own broken body. And I wasn't going to let her do that. Not today. Today, someone was going to take care of her.
I glanced at the dashboard clock.
2:10 PM.
I pulled up to the hospital entrance, not even parking properly, just leaving the car idling in the middle of the bay. I didn't wait for anyone. I scooped her up and felt how light she was, how broken she felt in my arms.
"Someone get over here!" I yelled as the sliding doors hissed open.
I looked at the nurses and then back at her.
"Help her," I muttered, my voice finally cracking.
"Just help her."