The Stranger Behind My Orgasm novel Chapter 297

Chapter 297: DEAD.

Abigail

I couldn’t stop shaking. It was hours later, and I was safe in our living room, a blanket draped over my shoulders and a cup of tea River had pushed into my hands, but for the life of me, I trembled all over like a leaf in the wind.

My fingers could hardly wrap around the porcelain cup, sending tiny ripples across the surface of the liquid. My knees bounced under the blanket, muscles still firing with adrenaline that had nowhere to go.

I kept seeing the bomb over and over every time I closed my eyes.

What on earth was wrong with Devin? A bomb? Really? All for what exactly? When Finnegan had lunged for it, my first thought was that I was going to watch him die from outside the hall doors.

The security men had grabbed me before I could fling myself back into the building. I had fought them, clawed at them, screamed Finnegan’s name until my throat was raw.

They had held me back and even blocked my view so I wouldn’t see what was happening.

I hadn’t been able to breathe until the gunshot.

When the building didn’t explode, I couldn’t fully breathe again until I was running toward Finnegan, crashing into his arms to be sure he was alive and I wasn’t hallucinating.

What he had done wasn’t easy. Facing his brother like that, in public, with witnesses and cameras, wrestling a madman for a bomb — it must have taken a lot of courage.

But at least now everybody would see.

That thought was a strange and bitter comfort, but it was true.

There were people who’d believed that when Devin was sentenced to death, Finnegan was the villain and Devin the wronged brother. But now they couldn’t spin this, because at least five hundred people had just watched the crazy man bring a bomb to a birthday celebration!

But God, at what cost?

I set the tea down before I could spill it and pressed my palm against my stomach. I was two months pregnant, and I still hadn’t found the right moment to tell him. Now didn’t seem like a good time to bring it up.

"Abigail?" Meemaw called, her voice filled with concern. She sat across from me on the sofa, Gramps beside her holding her hand. "Are you okay, my baby?"

"I’m okay," I lied, managing a smile. "Just... processing."

Finnegan was in the next room, speaking with the police, giving his statement for what felt like the hundredth time.

Angel sat on the floor near the fireplace, wrapped in an oversized sweater. I patted the spot beside me, and she came over to sit, laying her head on my chest.

I stroked her hair slowly. River and Annette hovered nearby while Henry paced around. Eric had rushed his old father home because Arthur had had a heart attack.

We were all in shock, all trying to make sense of the fact that we’d almost died tonight.

And it was Finnegan’s birthday.

We had planned this celebration trying to make it perfect, and now it was ruined. Another year, another birthday marked by Wolfe tragedy.

I couldn’t let it end like this. I nudged Angel gently. "I’ll be right back, sweetheart,"

She pushed off me, sighing, while I stood up abruptly, the blanket falling from my shoulders. Everyone glanced at me.

"Wait here," I murmured. "I’ll be right back."

I walked to the kitchen and found some leftover cake from the cake-tasting session. There was a whole one untouched.

I carried it back to the living room.

"What’s this?" Angel asked.

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