"Rory," I said coldly, "you took away my right to be a father. How can you expect to have your own child?"
Ever since the day I'd severed her pinky, I had intended to do this.
Only she had anticipated me and dodged it.
Sweat poured down her face. Color drained completely.
Her reddened eyes locked on me, trying to endure the pain.
Through gritted teeth, she said, "Is this what you wanted? If it is, then you can let Jesse go, right?"
Her words froze me for a moment.
My gaze flicked involuntarily to her bleeding womb. I expected her to think of herself first, to demand I take her to a hospital.
But no, I was wrong.
The first thing she thought of was still that son-of-a-bitch.
"Ahhh! Rory, help! Help me!"
Jesse's terrified screams echoed from outside the car.
Rory didn't spare me a glance.
She gritted her teeth, and with a groan, she swung open the car door. Toward Jesse at the cliff's edge, she ran, stumbling forward with veins bulging, her heart pounding in her chest.
It had happened before when I was sixteen.
My father's business rivals had kidnapped me.