They would shake their heads at me, apologetic but helpless, and hit the gas.
The bodyguard watched my body sway, barely upright, and spoke without a shred of warmth.
"Mr. Sanchez asked me to pass along a message. This is what happens when you defy him. If you're willing to apologize to Ms. Swanson and agree to personally attend to her for the rest of her pregnancy, he'll have me drive you home."
I didn't hear a word. I just put one foot in front of the other and started walking toward home.
Blood trickled down my thighs and dripped onto the asphalt, drawing stares from passersby. But I was beyond feeling any of it. One step, then another, then another, until the sky turned black and I finally reached the front door.
The house blazed with light, pushing back the cold of the late hour. I raised my fingers, stiff and half-frozen, and punched in the code.
The keypad answered with an error tone.
I clenched my teeth and entered it again. And again. The system rejected me every single time.
The housekeeper finally stormed to the door, flung it open, and stared at me with flat, pitiless eyes.