When There Is Nothing Left But Love

Ashton approached us with narrowed eyes.

A bullet whistled narrowly passed his head.

“Ashton, stay where you are if you want her to live,” Abe shouted. “Her life is far more valuable than yours. I’m not going to exchange you for her. It would be in your best interests if you allow us to leave, or I would not be able to promise that she won’t bleed to death.”

Ashton froze, his eyes locked on my arm and the ghastly pool of blood that had gathered on the ground.

“Let them pass!” he commanded his men as though it was an easy decision for him.

Joseph stared at him in surprise; he was prepared to capture Abe once and for all. “Mr. Fuller, this is our only chance to…”

“Let them pass!” Ashton repeated with his pained gaze on me.

Abe kept his grip tightly on me and walked towards a junction that led towards another path.

At the sight of Ashton lowering his gun, Abe cackled with delight.

He tossed me in the car with Danny at the wheel. He sped off as soon as the doors slammed shut.

Abe grinned down at me. His eyes were reduced to slits in his malice. “Ms. Stovall, much obliged to you for getting me out of that.”

I glared at him as fiercely as I could. The blood that I had lost was making me dizzy.

Abe laughed at my fury. “To Marshville!” he ordered Danny.

his mouth to speak but caught sight of the bloodstains upon my arm. He frowned and nodded without a

still being followed!” Danny said, with

much, I’d say let him come. We can show him around the city

was obvious that he was referring to me as my arm

of blood. I leaned against the

several more rounds. He glanced back at me and said, “Sir,

with his eyes shut. At Danny’s remark, he cast a

I think they’re gone.” Danny

Abe said with amusement. “No matter,

heading back to

before

white sheets that

arm which seemed to have spread. Even the

painful attempts, I slumped back into bed, drenched in a

throat felt dry as if I hadn’t had anything to drink

to me but

out and grabbed

stunned. My throat seared with pain from the mere utterance of

his lips. “Would you like a

parched,”

his hands around my waist, he held me up and leaned me on his

reluctance. “You’re not well. Don’t even think about it,”

I had no choice but to go along with him. He held the glass of water