The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 137

He put her up to it…

Petty’s eyes, usually so bright, seemed hollow and endless. Her nails bit into the board she was holding, but her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold on.

Suddenly, she let out a small, bitter laugh. She shook her head while she laughed, her face so pale it almost looked blue. Tears spilled over and splashed onto the tip of Franco’s shoe.

“So Laura really isn’t as bold as I thought.”

Now everything made sense.

A storm of emotion pulled at her chest, so sharp and overwhelming that she felt like her soul was being ripped from her body. The pain was too much. Her vision blurred, darkness closing in, and her body just gave out.

Harris’s face turned grim.

The woman he’d just been holding was snatched away and wrapped up in Franco’s arms.

Franco looked down at Petty, limp and colorless in his embrace. The purple bruise on her forehead was impossible to ignore. His thick eyebrows were drawn together, his dark eyes full of something unreadable.

His jaw clenched. Without hesitation, he lifted Petty, cradling her against his side, and marched down the steps on his injured leg.

No one dared get in his way. The anger coming off him was impossible to miss, and the urgency in his steps left a trail of crushed debris behind him.

Harris knew now wasn’t the time to argue. Petty’s health came first. Still, he stepped in front of Franco, blocking his path. “Give Petty to me.”

Franco’s tone was steady and cold. “Move.”

“She was in such a rush to get here that she slammed on the brakes, hit her head on the door, and now she has a mild concussion. Do you even know what made her so desperate?” Harris stared him down, refusing to budge.

Every word hit Franco like a punch.

Hit her head on the door. Mild concussion.

Harris wanted him to know exactly how much he’d hurt her, how much she cared about that treehouse.

When Harris came back from washing his hands, he spotted Franco sitting beside Petty’s bed, dressed in black, head bowed so low his face was hard to read. He was quietly dabbing ointment on the bruise on her forehead, gentle and careful.

Harris clenched his fists, turned away, and took a steadying breath. “You know you’re the last person she wants to see right now.”

Franco’s hand froze for a second.

He didn’t move until he’d finished treating the bruise. Then, without a word, he stood up and walked to the door.

Outside, a wall of bodyguards waited, all of them Harris’s men.

“I won’t let you anywhere near Petty again.”

Franco just glanced back at the bed, at Petty who was awake but still refusing to open her eyes. He didn’t say a single word as he walked away.

Once Franco was gone, Harris told his men to spread out and guard the area. He closed the door behind him and sat down at Petty’s bedside.