The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 267

He shot a quick look at Laura as the maid lifted her into the wheelchair. His voice was pure ice. “Take her inside. Laura doesn’t leave this house unless I say so, not even a step.”

With one arm locked around Petty’s waist, Franco hauled her out of The Glades.

In the car, Petty fought against him with everything she had until blackness crept over her vision. Her body gave way, all her strength draining out of her. The tears she’d fought so hard to swallow finally spilled free, trailing down her cheeks uncontrollably.

Franco’s arms tightened, pulling her closer. He pressed her head against his chest, his hand holding hers, fingers clamped around her blood-stained right hand. His eyes looked dangerously dark and cold.

The car rushed away from The Glades, headed straight for Misty Vale.

Petty lay unconscious on the big bed in the master suite, her body sinking into the soft mattress. Her face, already small and delicate, was now so pale she looked almost translucent.

The doctor finished his exam and turned to Franco, who sat at Petty’s side with a cold, distant look. “Franco, Mrs. White isn’t in any real danger. She fainted, overwhelmed by anger and stress. She’ll wake up soon enough.”

Anger and stress. That much, at least, seemed obvious.

Franco said nothing. He just stared at her, shadows deep in his eyes as he dabbed medicine onto the wound in her hand. His voice came low and flat. “Everyone out.”

The doctor left, followed by Jackson, Jay, and Galen.

Galen was only there because Franco had given him a task, and he finally had something to report. It was nothing he wanted to discuss over the phone, so he’d come out to Misty Vale in person. But the moment he arrived, Franco had vanished. By the time Franco reappeared, he was carrying Petty in his arms, and she was knocked out and hurt.

“What happened? How did Petty get hurt?” Galen asked quietly once they were out of the room.

Jay hesitated. His face was impossible to read. “Franco shot at her.”

Her lips twisted into a cold, bitter smile. “Fake.”

She pushed herself upright, ignoring the rush of dizziness, and with one quick swipe, she knocked the tray with all the medical supplies straight onto the floor.

Bottles and gauze went flying. The open iodine spilled across the polished wood, leaving a wide, rusty-looking stain.

He’d shot at her, then tried to bandage the wound. What was the point? Was there really any difference between killing her and then playing the grieving man afterward?

Of course she should have known better. This was Franco’s trick every time—hurt her, then turn around and act gentle. How many times had she almost let herself believe in that fake sweetness? It was laughable.

Ignoring him completely, Petty tossed the covers aside and got up. The sharp jolt in her hand made her flinch, but she didn’t let it slow her down.