This Isn't You, Baby(70)

By: K Webster


He’s going to kill me too.

I’m going to die.

Duvan, our baby, and me. We’ll be together at least.

“Not today, Gabriella,” Heath hisses. “I’ve come a long way for you. A promise is a promise. And I promised I’d be back for you.”

My eyes roll back as I succumb to shock. The heavy weight is gone and I’m floating. It isn’t until I’m laid on something soft that I reopen my eyes. I’m on the bed—a bed I’ve made love to Duvan countless times on—and Heath is cutting my clothes right from my body.

I can’t move.

I can’t think.

I can’t feel.

I just stare at the monster. He isn’t careful as he tears the shorts off me. I’m knicked by the sharp blade on my hip bone when he cuts my panties from me. The tank I’m wearing is easily sawed through.

Blood.

So much blood.

All over my hands and upper body.

His hands.

The knife.

Bile creeps up my throat, and I turn my head to the side so I don’t drown in my own vomit. Heath’s belt jangles as he prepares to fuck me. Just beyond my dead husband’s body.

And I can’t do anything about it.

I pray for him to push the tip of his blade into my chest so I’ll bleed out too. I want him to dump my dying body on Duvan’s so we can race into the afterlife together.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” Heath hisses.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

And then him.

Elation surges through me like the heroin used to cause. Hot and exciting as it rushed through my veins. Heath will pay for this. I can see it in my hero’s eyes.

Dark and murderous.

Hate-filled.

My heart flops.

Hope soars inside me like a thousand eagles taking flight.

A knife, much bigger than Heath’s glints in the bedroom light. Thunder booms outside like a prologue to the massacre that shall be.

Stabbing and stabbing and stabbing.

Death crashing around us like the storm waging outside.

I can’t help but get high off the vengeance. More satisfying than any hit of bliss that ever swam through my veins. I want to thank the man with every ounce of my being who singlehandedly crushed a demon that had somehow escaped from hell.

A devastated scream I recognize as Vee’s from the computer, makes my skin crawl.

Heath croaks and crumbles to the floor. His dick is hanging out but he never got to do what he came for. I stare at his unmoving body on the floor. If I had the energy, I would spit on him.

“Brie baby.”

I drag my gaze from the psycho on the floor to the hero standing beside my bed. He sits down next to me and pushes my sticky hair from my face. A tender expression crosses over his features, and I’m instantly comforted.

“Is he alive?” I choke out.

He turns and regards Heath on the floor. “That motherfucker is dead.”

“And my husband?”

This time, he frowns. Sadness washes over me. All this time, I had him painted as a monster. He’s no monster.

He.

Came.

For.

Me.

“No.”

A tear streaks down my cheek. “But I loved him.”

“I know, baby.”

“I will never love anyone like I loved him…”

He narrows his eyes at me and gives me a smile I remember fondly. “You will. It’ll be different, but you will. Love is strange, Sylvia.” Warm memories surge through me at the silly name.

I close my eyes and let my last happy moments with Duvan wash over me on repeat. His laughter. His touch. His decadent scent. His doting nature. His jokes. His strength. His ability to find my broken heart and mend it.

His love…

My body physically aches from this loss. I’m not sure the pain will ever subside. With a shaking hand, I reach out to him. “I want to go home, Daddy.”



Thank you to my husband, Matt. I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without your support. I love you bunches!

I want to thank the people who read this beta book early and gave me incredible support. Elizabeth Clinton, Ella Stewart, Amanda Soderlund, Amy Bosica, Shannon Martin, Brooklyn Miller, Robin Martin, Jessica Hollyfield, Amy Simms, and Sunny Borek. (I hope I didn’t forget anyone.) You guys always provide AMAZING feedback. You all give me helpful ideas to make my stories better and give me incredible encouragement. I appreciate all of your comments and suggestions.

Jessica V. Viteri, thank you for helping me brush up on my Spanish insults and phrases. Without you, everyone would be chickens instead of something awful like I intended lol. You rock!!

A big thank you to my author friends who have given me your friendship and your support. You have no idea how much that means to me.

Thank you to all of my blogger friends both big and small that go above and beyond to always share my stuff. You all rock! #AllBlogsMatter