Chapter 8

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John felt like his heart would explode at any moment, as fast as his heart was beating. He'd woken up just moments earlier and realized you weren't by his side. His breathing turned ragged, getting oxygen into his lungs required far more effort than was healthy, and a fine sweat broke out on his body as his eyes darted around the room hoping to find you there.

He was sure that you had been by his side just a few moments ago. Because he hadn't let you out of his sight in the last few hours - or had it been days - after the attack. No one had dared even comment on how he had insisted that his bedroom should be used for your recovery.

Had his mind been playing tricks on him?

Hadn't he been fast enough to save you?

Was he still trapped in his nightmare?

Seldom before had he felt so helpless as in those seconds when he had realized that Tate must have been missing. He had sent the boy outside to feed his horse while he had waited inside and prepared his dessert. But Tate hadn't come back after a while and when John had looked for him he had only found Lucky - standing outside the round pen, just looking at him. And in an instant, John had known something terrible must have happened. Because Tate would never ever let his horse run around unattended.

But before he had time to even comprehend the situation, he'd seen Tate tearing through the fields on your motocross bike. Inevitably, memories of Evelyn had come to his mind. But neither the memories nor the fear really had time to set in, because Tate had stopped beside him in no time at all.

In Tate's frantic haste, John hadn't understood everything the boy was trying to tell him. But it had been more than enough for him to grab his rifle and race on your motocross bike - Gosh, he couldn't believe he had to agree that this damn bike had its merits - to the place Tate had described to him.

Had he previously believed that his deepest fears had come true, it had been nothing compared to what he had gone through when he had seen you lying on the ground, buried under that monster of a man.

It had been a risk taking that shot from that distance.

But he had known that time was running out.

When the shot had hit its target, relief had washed over him.

Only to be replaced by worry - no, terror. Because you hadn't been moving. At all. Sure, being buried under that monster of a man hadn't given you much room to move. But John hadn't seen any movement at all.

And as he had raced the last few yards toward you, he had prayed for a miracle. Because he knew he wouldn't survive losing you. Because from the moment he had met you, he had known you would be the one who would thaw his heart. Even if he had tried to defend himself against it with all means.

As he had rolled the body off you, John had been presented with a sight that would haunt his nightmares forever.

You had lain so still with your eyes closed - but thank God he had seen the steady rise and fall of your chest.

Blood had covered your face - from the evil filth that had dared to harm you. And the miscreant had gotten off lightly too.

Because when John had noticed the fingerprints on your neck, he had wanted to kill him all over again - but this time very slowly and painfully.

He had called your name but you hadn't responded at all. He had picked you up and cradled you while carrying you to the arriving trucks. And it seemed like every single person on the ranch had made their way here - to you.

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