He Buried Me But I Painted My Own Resurrection novel Chapter 194

His forehead slammed brutally against the cold, unforgiving marble with a sickening thud. Warm liquid instantly rushed out, sliding down his brow bone and into his eye.

The pain registered a half-second late, but he acted as if he felt nothing, driven purely by the instinct to get back up.

"Mr. Gauthier!" a maid in the living room screamed, the tray in her hands crashing to the floor.

Hearing the commotion, Lyla rushed out of the guest room. Seeing the bloody scene, the color drained from her face.

"Grant, you're bleeding!"

She lunged forward, reaching out to help him up.

But Grant reacted as if she were made of acid, viciously shoving her away.

The force was so explosive that even he didn't realize its strength; Lyla was thrown several feet back, crashing hard onto the floor.

He didn't spare her a single glance. Using his knees for leverage, he pried himself off the ground inch by inch, then staggered out the front door.

His car tore down the winding mountain road like a runaway beast. The needle on the dashboard surged wildly to the right, quickly breaking a hundred and twenty miles per hour.

He gripped the steering wheel in a death hold, his knuckles turning a ghastly white.

The blood from his forehead dripped into his eye, tinting his entire field of vision a horrific shade of red.

"Wait for me." The words squeezed through his gritted teeth, broken and desperate.

"Sienna, wait for me."

He begged internally, over and over again.

If he could just see her one last time, he didn't care if Lucas beat him to death. He had to get there.

...

Westcliff Mortuary & Crematorium.

The sky was oppressively dark, as if the heavens were collapsing. A fine, icy drizzle mixed with the bitter winter wind, slashing at faces like razor blades.

The sports car slammed on its brakes outside the gates, the tires screaming against the slick pavement.

Grant threw the door open and bolted into the rain without an umbrella, stumbling wildly toward the entrance.

A line of bodyguards in black suits formed an impenetrable wall of muscle, blocking the entrance to the memorial hall.

"Get out of my way!"

Grant roared, shoving at the closest guard.

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