𝗙𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗲

42 - In Love and Loyalty.

As his choked sobs morphed into dry, wracking gasps, his hold on Frankie slackened. Relief pierced through the haze of terror that gripped me. I gently pried her from his grasp, the coldness of her skin painting a horrifying picture drawn out of my worst fears.

No bullet wounds.

A shuddering breath escaped my lips. With a reverence bordering on desperation, I scooped her up, her familiar weight felt like a cruel reminder of what I might lose. As I rushed her to the backseat of my car, every fiber of my being screamed at me to drive, to speed away from this nightmare and get her the help she needed. But I couldn't leave Noah.

He knelt there, his body radiating a cold that eclipsed even Frankie's stillness. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles shone white, his jaw tight, his silent scream trapped within.

Remembering Frankie's stories about her brother's autism, I fought down the urge to touch him, the urgent need to coax him to his feet. Instead, I mirrored his position, kneeling a careful distance away. My voice, when I finally spoke, was hoarse, a far cry from the steely command I usually wielded.

"Noah, Frankie needs you," I said softly, even surprising myself with how calm I sounded. "Help me get her to the hospital. She needs her brother by her side, and I know you can do that. She's going to be okay, with you there for her. She'll be alright."

My own conviction faltered at the last word, but I held on tightly to that fragile thread of hope.

His eyes remained closed, but I waited, hoping my words had reached through his distress and touched his heart. I may have loved my sister more than anything in the world, but I couldn't even begin to understand the bond that Frankie and Noah shared.

An eternity seemed to stretch before Noah finally stirred. The tension bled from his clenched fists, a slow, agonizing release. His reddened eyes, vacant moments ago, flickered to life, locking onto mine with a harrowing intensity. In that single look, I saw a storm of emotions – raw grief, a chilling emptiness, and a flicker of something that might have been recognition.

Without a word, he rose, his movements sluggish, as if underwater. He took a single, stumbling step towards the car, then another, his resolve growing with each one. As he reached the backseat, he sank down beside Frankie. He didn't cradle her, not yet. He simply placed a single hand on her arm, a gesture that spoke volumes of the bond they shared.

Adrenaline surged through my veins as I bolted to the driver's seat and roared down the road at reckless speed. My once-familiar surroundings blurred into a crimson haze, fueled by the fiery rage coursing through me. I was consumed by an unyielding desire to inflict pain and vengeance upon the one who had dared to harm her.

Reaching into the inside pocket of my leather jacket, I retrieved my phone and frantically dialed Sawyer's number. The call went unanswered, proving his deliberate avoidance. Undeterred, I persisted with a second attempt.

"Pierce," Sawyer's gruff voice grumbled. His disdain for me was unmistakable. "What the hell do you want?"

Suppressing my rising anger, I commanded, "Meet me at Conor's hospital, now!" The words tore from my throat, laced with a raw desperation that surprised even me. "And tell Conor the same. We need him, and we need him fast."

"What the hell happened-" he began, but I cut him off, the phone clattering to the dashboard as I slammed it down. Time was a luxury I couldn't afford..

The city blurred into a tapestry of streetlights and shadows as I pushed the car to its limits towards Conor's hospital. My fury, a simmering inferno moments ago, had morphed into a cold, coiling rage. I would make who ever did this to my Frankie pay, make them suffer a thousandfold for the pain they'd inflicted.