Shaina stood there, reckless and fearless, seemingly unaware of how close she was to danger. Yet, I had to admit there was a kind of bravery in her that I respected. She reminded me of who I used to be.
I laughed. "Want to die, is that it? I'll grant your wish."
The click of the gun chambering made her tremble. Then, in the next heartbeat, a blade sliced through the air and plunged into my arm.
I had never expected Duncan to strike me on her behalf.
Pain seared so hot I almost dropped the gun.
I clenched my teeth and refused to let go. Duncan sighed, stepped forward, and locked his hands on my wrist.
With a sound like breaking wood, he snapped my wrist.
"Lauren," he said, voice low and steady, "I told you, I will not give you another chance to hurt her. Be good. After the baby is born, I will come back and make this right."
The gun hit the floor with a high, sharp ring.
I pressed my hand to the bleeding wound and let out a hollow, broken laugh. "Duncan, there's no need. I already said I'll step aside. Just sign the papers. Let us both go."
He took a step back and shook his head.
His gaze was steady, but there was a sadness in it I could not read. Before either of us could say more, a loud sound came from behind us.
Shaina fell to her knees, clutching her belly and facing away. Only then did Duncan notice the bright red across her back. His hands shook as he lifted her shirt.
Her back was a raw, mangled map of flesh. Across it, carved deep and bleeding, were two words: 'Cheap slut.'
I had carved them myself, just before he burst in.
Duncan stared at me in disbelief. His voice went cold. "Lauren, you are insane. How dare you do that to her?"
I laughed and replied, "And why do you suppose your mistress could just stroll into my house, insult me to my face, and walk away untouched? You know me, Duncan. Two letters, that was me going easy, for your sake."
Veins stood out on his forehead. I could see he had reached his limit.
He growled, "Lauren, kneel. Apologize to Shaina, and I will pretend none of this ever happened."
Pretend? Why should I apologize?
I was the one who had been betrayed. I was the one who had been hurt.
Seething with anger, I laughed again, bent to pick up the fallen knife, and without hesitation lunged toward Shaina's belly.
In a flash, Duncan snatched a gun from one of the bodyguards and fired. The sound filled the room. I did not feel the tearing pain of a bullet. Looking down, I realized why. A tiny tranquilizer dart had lodged in my chest.
My vision blurred. A bitter smile touched my lips. So in the end, Duncan could not bring himself to kill me. If I had been in his place, I would not have been so merciful. I would have aimed straight for the heart.
When I regained consciousness, I found myself lying on an operating table. Bright surgical lights blinded me, making the room appear to swim around me. I attempted to move, but pain shot through my back as if the skin had been stripped away.
I looked up and met Shaina's triumphant eyes.
"Does it hurt, Lauren?" she said, the sweetness in her tone a lie. "Good. It should hurt."
Shaina then pulled down her gown and showed the bandages on her back.
"Duncan said you owed me," she went on. "So he had the doctors perform a skin graft without your permission."
She smiled, insolent. "Oh, and he told them not to give you any painkillers. He said you should feel what I felt."
She tilted her head, as if the thought were casual.
"Even the skin on my back? He cut it from your body. Sorry, his knife work is poor. Looks like your wound got worse than we thought."
Her arrogance stung.
That sort of confidence only comes from one thing: Duncan.
He was the one who had given her the power to stand there and mock me.
