“He’s mine,” Joanna says, her words sounding like they are underwater. “He doesn’t want you. He wants you to just go away.”

My hand closes around the fallen coffee pot, and I force myself to think. To not give in to the pain in my head. I try to hurl it at her, but I have no strength, and it travels only inches.

Joanna laughs. “You should calm down.” She strokes a finger over the blade of her razor-sharp knife, raising a thin layer of blood. “It will only hurt a little, then it will stop. As the blood leaves you, it will all stop. And then we’ll both be fine. You see? It’s all so simple.”

Hell, yeah, it’s simple. You’re crazy. I blink, realizing I’ve only said the words in my head. The pain in my leg and the pain in my head are drawing me under, and I’m not even scared. I’m just lost and sad. Riley. I won’t even have the chance to say good-bye to Riley.

Above me, Joanna’s face contorts, and she lifts the knife at the same time I hear a loud crash from the far side of the room. I have no idea what it is—I’m on the floor, my vision blocked by the couch.

But the next thing I hear is a sharp crack, and then the knife clatters to the ground. For a moment, Joanna looks stunned. Then I see that her hand is a bloody mess.

Gunfire, I think, as my head pounds and my vision turns gray.

I fight to stay conscious. But it’s hard, and things are moving so slowly. I have to stay awake though. I have to fight so she doesn’t hurt me again. But it’s hard—it’s so damn hard.

And then I hear a feral yell, and as if in slow motion, someone leaps into view, knocking Joanna to the ground before turning his attention to me.

I try to smile, but I’m not sure I manage.

Riley.

He’s here, and I’m safe.

And that’s when I relax and let the gray pull me under into sleep.

* * * *

“I could have lost you,” Riley says hours later as he carefully settles me into my bed. “I just found you again, and I could have lost you.”

“But you didn’t,” I say. It’s the same thing I’ve been saying for the last two hours—ever since I woke up in the condo as he’d held me, his muscles straining as he kept pressure on my leg while we waited for the police and paramedics. I reach out and clasp his hand. “You didn’t lose me. You saved me.”

“I sent Big Tag a text message from the hospital. I’m done. With Dallas. With all of it.”