Love Rents A Room
Chapter 93: Fighting With Everything

Chapter 93: Fighting With Everything

Jeffrey thundered toward the northeastern fence, his pulse hammering in his ears. Then he heard...

A gunshot.

His heart plummeted.

An invisible force seemed to grip his chest, crushing it, and a sharp, unrelenting pain stabbed through his lower back and abdomen. It was so intense, he thought he might black out. But he couldn’t afford to.

Clutching at his racing heart, he gritted his teeth and urged the horse forward, pushing through the agony.

What if she was hurt?

What if it was him... What if it was that bastard from the bar?

The thought sent a fresh wave of panic coursing through his veins.

If that man had laid a hand on Joanne... if she was hurt because of him—because of his mistake—he would never be able to forgive himself.

He forced his body to move faster. No hesitation. No second-guessing.

Not now.

-----

Joanne hit the ground hard, tumbling into the brittle underbrush. Thorns raked her skin, their bite sharp, but the pain barely registered through the shock of the fall. The impact had stolen the breath from her lungs.

Dazed, she turned her head, her vision swimming. Mr. Darcy struggled to his feet, his flanks rising and falling in ragged, panicked breaths.

Then she saw it.

A streak of crimson.

Blood.

The bullet hadn’t hit her. It had hit her horse.

Her world narrowed. The sounds around her dulled into an eerie silence, and darkness crept at the edges of her vision. It would be so easy to let go—to slip into unconsciousness.

What was she even fighting for? What did any of this matter?

Then, through the haze, she heard it—movement in the tall grass.

Caruso’s voice cut through the silence, thick with rage.

"Come on out, you little b*tch! Don’t make me hunt you down!"

Mr. Darcy, wounded but defiant, staggered to his feet. Blood darkened his sleek coat, but a single bullet wouldn’t be enough to break him. He was bred for war—his ancestors had carried knights into battle, charging through fire and chaos without hesitation.

He wouldn’t give up.

And neither would she.

Joanne clenched her jaw, swallowing the pain that clawed at her chest. Every inch of her body ached, but surrender wasn’t an option. Not to this man. Not today.

Her fingers curled around a rock—small enough to grip, heavy enough to do damage. It was nothing against a gun, but she didn’t care. She had to try.

Caruso’s revolver. Six bullets.

He’d used one. Five left.

That meant she had five chances to survive.

She tested her legs, shifting her weight. Nothing broken, thank God. It was her chest that burned, each breath sharp as a blade. But adrenaline surged through her veins, forcing her forward.

The tall grass whispered around her as she stumbled through it, trying to move fast without making noise. But she could hear him gaining on her.

Closer.

Too close.

Joanne stilled, pressing herself against the earth, heart hammering. Dried leaves crunched underfoot as Caruso prowled through the field. He was tense. Agitated. He knew people would come running after the gunshot.

He was running out of time.

And she just had to outlast him.

Holding her breath, she melted into the thick brush. She prayed he’d pass by. That, for once in her life, luck would be on her side.

But it never was.

Caruso moved with certainty, his steps heading straight for her. As if he could see her.

Joanne exhaled slowly, forcing back the frustration and exhaustion pressing in on her. Nothing in her life had ever come easy. Every inch of ground she’d gained, she’d fought for, clawed for.

And if she had to fight for her life now, then so be it.

She braced herself.

Waited.

The moment his head turned—she lunged.

With all the strength she had left, she slammed the rock into his skull.

The impact sent a sharp crack through the air. But it wasn’t enough.

Caruso staggered, cursing—then the gun went off again.

Joanne barely had time to react before his fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her back. Pain exploded across her scalp as he swung her down, slamming her hard into the ground.

The breath rushed from her lungs.

Dizzy. Stunned.

A shadow loomed over her.

Caruso stood above her, his revolver aimed between her eyes, a slow, sickening smirk spreading across his face.

"Gotcha, little b*tch."

-----

Jeffrey heard another gunshot.

His pulse thundered in his ears. The shots were spaced apart—too far for a clean kill. That meant she was fighting. That meant she was still alive.

Relief warred with panic.

She was still breathing. Still resisting. But for how much longer?

He dug his heels into the horse’s side, urging it forward just as a dark shape emerged through the tall grass.

Mr. Darcy.

The stallion galloped toward him, his muscles straining, his coat streaked with blood. Jeffrey barely had time to process the sight before the horse abruptly turned, heading back the way he came.

His heart clenched.

Is he trying to show me the way?

"Good boy..." Jeffrey whispered, gripping the reins tighter. "Lead me to her."

His horse seemed to understand the urgency, breaking into a powerful sprint as they followed the wounded stallion through the dense brush.

He prayed he wasn’t too late.

-----

Joanne gritted her teeth as Caruso loomed over her, his gun leveled at her head.

She shifted her weight, tightening her core. Then she kicked out—fast and hard.

But he was quicker.

Before her foot could connect, he snatched her ankle, his fingers digging in like iron clamps.

"Not this time, b*tch." His grin was sharp, full of malice. With a vicious jerk, he twisted her leg, sending a violent shock of pain through her waist.

She grunted, her vision flashing white at the edges. The agony was unbearable.

But she still laughed.

A weak, rasping chuckle that made his smirk falter.

"How’s life with shattered balls?" she taunted, breathless but grinning through the pain.

Caruso’s expression twisted in rage.

He remembered.

The last time he tried to drown her, she’d fought back—wild and desperate. And when he least expected it, she had kicked him with everything she had, right where it counted.

She’d heard later that the injury had been so severe, his testicles had ruptured.

And judging by the way his jaw clenched now, he hadn’t forgotten.

She chuckled louder.

She was taunting him and there was a reason behind it. She wished he fell for her taunts.