Page 108 of Broken Destiny

“Call 911!” I shouted at the driver.

I turned back to her immediately, gripping her shoulders carefully.

“Jiya? Jiya?” My voice cracked despite my effort to stay calm.

I lifted her upright gently, supporting her head against the seat while blood continued to trail down the side of her face.

My ears pounded violently, the sound of my own heartbeat roaring inside my skull. Fear burned through my chest, quickly morphing into rage.

I didn’t want to leave her. Every instinct inside me screamed to stay beside her, to keep holding her, to make sure she opened her eyes again. But the sight of the other car sitting there twisted something vicious inside me.

I shoved the car door open and stepped out, fury surging through me like fire. Every muscle in my body locked tight as I looked toward the other vehicle. Grinding my teeth, I marched across the road, my hands curling into fists.

All I could see was Jiya unconscious and bleeding in my arms.

If this bastard had hurt her any worse than he already had, I honestly didn’t know if I’d be able to stop myself from putting him through the same pain.

The driver toppled out at the same time.

As I reached the car, the smell hit me first.

Alcohol.

The sharp, sour stench filled the air.

My vision blurred as I grabbed the middle-aged man by his collar and yanked him forward with enough force to make him stumble.

“I swear to God,” I growled, my voice low and deadly, “if something happens to her, you’re going to regret this for the rest of your life.”

The words came from a place driven by fear, desperation, and love so fierce it frightened even me.

Because I could not lose her again.

Not when I had only just found her.

Not when there was still so much left unsaid between us.

I was not ready to let her slip away again, not when I had only just started to hope.

Seconds later, I heard the wail of emergency sirens growing louder in the distance.

The sound snapped me back to reality.

I released the man immediately and ran back toward the car.

The sight of her slumped motionless against the seat nearly stopped my heart.

I scooped her carefully into my arms, holding her close against my chest.

Her body felt far too still.

“Stay with me, Jiya,” I whispered urgently, pressing her closer.“Please, baby, stay with me.”

The ambulance doorsburst open the moment we arrived at the hospital, and Jiya’s stretcher was rushed through the emergency entrance.

Bright fluorescent lights flashed overhead as doctors and nurses surrounded her immediately.

Her head was wrapped in a temporary bandage, and one arm rested awkwardly against her body.