Chapter 311

Dallas saw her. His eyes narrowed. He turned to Zane, who had just arrived at his side.

“Lock this place down,” Dallas ordered, his voice low and vibrating with lethal rage. “No one leaves. Check every car. Check every mechanic.”

“Someone cut her brakes,” Zane said, looking at the Ferrari.

“Find them,” Dallas said. “And when you do, don’t call the police. Call me.”

Eliza turned back to him. Her face was streaked with tears and dirt. “We have to go to the hospital.”

Dallas looked at her. He saw the guilt in her eyes. The concern. It wasn’t for him.

“Okay,” he said.

He didn’t offer her his hand. He turned and limped back to the car, each agonizing step a reminder of his own broken body — and now, of the broken bond between them.

The waiting room at the trauma center smelled of antiseptic and stale coffee.

Eliza sat on a vinyl bench, still wearing her racing suit, though she had unzipped the top half and tied the sleeves around her waist. She was shivering. Dallas had draped his suit jacket over her shoulders, but the cold was coming from inside her.

The sound of heels clicking rapidly against the linoleum made everyone look up.

Victoria Hyde swept into the room. She looked immaculate, as always, but her eyes were wild. Edward Hyde followed a step behind, his face grim.

Victoria saw Eliza and didn’t hesitate. She marched across the room, raised her hand, and swung.

“You little bitch!”

Dallas moved faster than a man with a shattered leg should have been able to. He caught Victoria’s wrist in mid-air.

“Don’t,” Dallas warned. His voice was a low growl.

Victoria struggled, her face contorted with hate. “She did this! My son is in there because of her!”

“He drove his car into a wall, Mrs. Hyde,” Dallas said, shoving her hand away. “To save her life.”

“Because he loves her!” Victoria screamed. “And look what it got him!”

Edward stepped forward, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Victoria. Enough.” He looked from Dallas to Eliza. “Is he alive?”

“He’s in surgery,” Eliza whispered. She stood up, the jacket slipping from her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Edward. The brakes — someone tampered with the brakes.”

“Tampered?” Edward’s eyes narrowed. “This was an assassination attempt?”

“Targeting my wife,” Dallas said coldly. “Anson was collateral damage.”

“Collateral damage?” Victoria shrieked. “He is a hero! He is twice the man you are!”

The double doors swung open. A surgeon in blue scrubs walked out, pulling off his mask. He looked tired.

“Family of Anson Hyde?”

“We’re his parents,” Edward said.

“He’s stable,” the surgeon said. “But the damage to the left leg was catastrophic. The tibia and fibula were pulverized. We managed to save the limb, but —”

“But what?” Victoria demanded.

“He will likely never walk without a cane again,” the surgeon said. “And the pain will be chronic.”

Eliza let out a small, wounded sound. She covered her face with her hands.