"Zane, Zane, don't move... Please don't move..." Her voice was fragmented, so broken she could barely understand what she was saying herself. "Don't talk. I'll call an ambulance. Just wait, just wait—"
Just as she was about to run toward the dressing room, her wrist was seized in a tight grip.
Jett Westgate's strength was astonishing. Annelise was yanked back, stumbling a step.
His voice was so flat it sent a chill down her spine. "He's not dead yet. Don't play out this drama of undying, devoted love in front of me. I don't like it."
Annelise tried to break free, but even with all her strength, it was useless. "Let me go! Let go!"
Jett Westgate only tightened his grip, looking down as she struggled uselessly in his arms.
"And if I don't? What can you do to me?"
Annelise's struggles paused. Her voice, thick with sobs she couldn't suppress, broke. "Jett Westgate, are you even human? He's lost so much blood... Can't you just call an ambulance for him? Please?"
