In the same spot where he'd been shot, Eric stood pale-faced, clutching his bleeding wound. Yet he showed no pain, instead forcing a fawning smile. "Happy now?"
Ava finally understood that he seemed to have genuinely fallen for her. Not during those eight years when she'd walked through the fire for him. Not when she'd gone to Elyndor for his sake, but only after her death. That's when he'd figured it out.
Ava found it ridiculous, thought him pathetic. She stepped forward. "No. One bullet. Thirty-eight knife wounds. Years of physical torment. Every scar I have. You could survive all of it and still not understand what I went through. Eight years, Eric. You owe me more than this."
She pulled out her phone. "I'll call an ambulance. Don't flatter yourself. I just won't let you die that eas
