Blood And Promises Novel by Sabrina Hart Chapter 04

Blood And Promises Novel by Sabrina Hart Chapter 04

She took a deep breath and forced herself out of bed, ignoring the stabbing pain in her knees and wrist.

“Where are you going?” Richard frowned.

“She’s not leaving, right?” Samantha didn’t look at him. She staggered toward the door. “Fine. I will!”

She pulled the door open and walked out without turning back.

Behind her, Richard seemed about to follow. Then, Rebecca’s trembling voice called out, “Richie, my hand really hurts…” He stopped.

It had started raining outside. Samantha had no umbrella. She walked straight into the downpour.

Rain soaked her wounds, sending sharp stings through her knees and wrist. She barely noticed. All she felt was numbness.

Where could she go? The Serrano’s residence wasn’t home anymore.

She didn’t want friends seeing her like this.

She walked aimlessly until she reached Lindsay’s grave.

Lindsay’s photo on the cold headstone still wore a gentle smile. Samantha slowly knelt.

“Mom.” She let out a self-mocking smile, her voice trembling. “I thought I’d finally found someone I could lean on. Someone who’d hold an umbrella over me, carry me home, and tell me that if everything fell apart, he’d stand in front and take the hit.

“But it was all fake. What he wanted was my blood to save the woman he actually loves.

“Mom, it hurts… It really hurts…”

She knelt there for a long time. By the time she stood, she was soaked and shivering.

She stumbled away and eventually found a cheap motel in a quiet alley. With the little cash she had left, she rented a room.

Between the rain, exhaustion, and infected wounds, she developed a high fever that night.

She collapsed onto the hard bed. In her haze, memories drifted back.

She recalled Richard carrying her home through the rain, his back broad and warm.

She recalled Richard clumsily drying her hair, his fingertips warm.

She recalled Richard kissing the corner of her eye, telling her, “With me, you can cry.”

Every time he returned from a mission, he’d bring her little trinkets. Sometimes, it was a lollipop. Other times, it was a carved hairpin.

When things were good, she’d curl into his arms, hooking her finger around his. She would say in a half-teasing and half-serious tone, “Richard, remember this. If you ever betray me, I’ll walk away without looking back. I’ve never been short of men chasing me.”

How had he answered?

He held her tightly, kissed the top of her head, and said in a low, solemn voice, “I won’t. Samantha, in this world, the one thing I’ll never do is let go of your hand.”

But now, the hand that once held hers was protecting another woman.

Samantha drifted in and out of a burning fever and cold, fractured dreams, her chest aching as if pierced by a thousand needles.

When she woke the next day, her fever had eased a little, but her body ached, and her throat felt raw.

She forced herself up, asked the innkeeper for some fever medicine, and swallowed it with cold water.

She had barely caught her breath when someone knocked. An unfamiliar man stood outside.

“Miss, I saw you in the hallway yesterday. You really caught my eye. Do you want to get to know each other? Leave me your contact?” His gaze lingered on her in a way that made her skin crawl.

Samantha frowned and was about to shut him down when a cold and commanding voice came from the end of the hallway.

“Get lost.”

Richard stood there in uniform, posture straight, his expression dark.

He strode over and stopped in front of her, his gaze sharp as a blade as it swept over the man.

Intimidated by his presence and the uniform, the man muttered awkwardly and retreated to his room.

Samantha looked at Richard’s tall, broad back and felt nothing but irony.

He looked convincing. Possessive enough that he probably believed his own act.

“What are you doing here?” she asked hoarsely. “Didn’t I already give the room to you and Rebecca?”

Richard stepped closer. He glanced at the shabby room behind her, his brows tightening. Something complicated flickered in his eyes. Anger, concern, and a trace of restless tension she couldn’t read.

His voice softened. “Sammy, stop this.

“There’s nothing between Becca and me. I was wrong yesterday. I spoke too harshly.

“You don’t look well. Are you sick? Come back with me. This place isn’t fit for you.”

He was apologizing, but it only made her chest ache more.

Because she knew he was lowering himself for another woman—he had to make sure she was safe so she could donate blood to Rebecca.

To him, she was a walking blood bank that had to be kept healthy and close.

“Good. Very good.

“Richard, you really would do anything for Rebecca.

“In that case, let’s see just how far you’d go,” Samantha thought.

“You want me to go back with you? Fine.” She lifted her eyes. Her gaze was cold. “Whip yourself three times right here in front of everyone. Do that, and I’ll go back with you.”