My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge

Chapter 310: Without Waiting (3)

"Greg!" Cammy shouted breathlessly as she reached the door leading to the back garden of the mansion. There was no light in that part of the unfinished mansion, so she quickly turned on the flashlight on her phone, cutting through the darkness as she stumbled forward.

Greg was already at the door, jiggling the handle in frustration. "Damn it, it’s locked!" he growled, his jaw clenched tight, his fists useless against the reinforced wood.

"I told you to get Dylan out of here," he added, not turning around, the urgency thick in his voice.

Cammy scanned the area with her flashlight and spotted a pile of construction tools in a dusty corner. Her eyes landed on a heavy sledgehammer. Without hesitation, she picked it up and rushed to Greg.

"Here. Break it down." noveldrama

Greg took the sledgehammer without a word, nodding once as he positioned himself. "Stand back," he said.

Cammy stepped away, her heart in her throat as Greg swung hard—once, twice—until the doorknob cracked and fell off with a dull clang. With a final kick, the door flew open, revealing the pitch-black garden beyond.

They sprinted outside, the beams of their phone lights bouncing wildly with every step. Cammy’s light flickered ahead—and then froze as it landed on a horrifying sight.

She gasped, her steps faltering, hand flying to her mouth. "Oh God..."

There, crumpled on a pile of bricks, lay Annie—blood trickling from her lips, her body twisted unnaturally. Beside her, Duncan was barely conscious, one arm clutching his stomach, blood soaking through his shirt.

Greg kept running until he reached them. "Shit!" he breathed, overwhelmed by the brutal scene in front of him. For a second, he didn’t know who to reach for first.

Cammy dropped beside Duncan, her eyes filling with tears. "You’ve been shot!" she cried, her voice breaking.

"D-Don’t move Annie," Duncan wheezed, eyes fluttering. "She... probably has broken bones. Moving her... will only make it worse."

Cammy nodded through her sobs, overwhelmed. Despite everything Annie and Duncan had done to her, seeing them like this—bloody and broken—it broke something in her, too. "Please, God help them," she whispered, hands trembling.

"Cammy, go. Go back to Dylan," Greg said firmly, eyes scanning Duncan’s injuries. "I’ll carry him out."

But before either of them could move, sirens pierced the night—and then cut off abruptly.

"They’re here!" Cammy cried, standing up and bolting back toward the mansion to guide them in.

Greg caught sight of the gun still clutched in Annie’s limp hand. His stomach turned. With a sharp kick, he sent it skidding across the ground, out of reach.

"G-Greg..." Annie croaked, lifting a trembling hand toward him. "Help me..."

"Don’t move," Greg said tightly. "You might bleed more. Help is coming."

He turned back to Duncan. "Can you move at all?"

"I-I think... a little. But the pain’s getting worse. I can’t feel my legs much anymore," Duncan muttered, his face pale and slick with sweat.

Greg yanked off his jacket and wadded it up, pressing it against Duncan’s wound. "Hold on, man. Just hold on."

Moments later, Cammy’s voice rang out from the mansion. "Over here!"

Randolf and several officers ran in with flashlights and weapons drawn. "Cammy! What happened?" he shouted. "Dylan’s in the car, he’s crying—he wouldn’t let me in!"

"He’s safe," Cammy panted. "Please—follow me. Annie and Duncan fell from the second floor. Duncan’s been shot, Annie’s conscious but in bad shape. They’re both losing blood fast!"

One of the officers radioed in. "This is Unit 4—get the medics in here now. Two stretchers. Severe trauma and gunshot wound."

As the group rushed toward the backyard, flashlights bouncing and boots thudding against the ground, Cammy whispered a silent prayer.

"Please... let them live."

The paramedics finally reached the site, rushing toward the two injured bodies with their gear in hand. The first team immediately knelt beside Duncan, their gloved hands working fast.

"He’s been shot in the abdomen," Greg reported as they took over, his voice tight. "Lost a lot of blood, but he’s been conscious up to now."

"We’ve got him," one paramedic said, cutting open Duncan’s shirt. Another was already starting an IV while someone else prepared a stretcher.

Cammy crouched beside Duncan, clutching his trembling hand. "You’re going to be okay," she whispered, brushing the hair from his sweaty forehead. "You saved Dylan. You were brave... You did good, Duncan."

Duncan gave her a faint, broken smile. "I... I didn’t want to die a villain in your story..."

"You didn’t," Cammy replied, her voice cracking. "You didn’t. And you will not die!"

With trained urgency, the paramedics lifted Duncan onto the stretcher and began securing him. He groaned in pain, but didn’t resist. Cammy stood and followed closely, never letting go of his hand until the back of the ambulance opened.

"I’m riding with him!" she said, but Greg gently caught her wrist.

"Love, let them take him first," he said softly. "You need to stay with Dylan. He’s scared, and he needs his mom right now."

"He’s right, Cammy, stay with our son..." Duncan said.

"It’s alright, Cammy, I’ll tail the ambulance. I’ll meet you in the hospital," Randolf said before going to his car.

Cammy looked torn, her heart split in two, but Greg gave her a reassuring nod.

"I’ll handle everything here," he promised, brushing a kiss on her temple. "Go to the car. Hold our boy. I’ll come as soon as I can."

With one last squeeze of Duncan’s hand, Cammy let go and stepped back, watching through watery eyes as the ambulance doors slammed shut and the sirens wailed back to life. The vehicle peeled out of the driveway and disappeared into the night, Duncan inside—fighting for his life.

Now, the remaining paramedics turned to Annie, whose groans were growing weaker, her breaths shallow.

"She’s in worse shape," one paramedic noted grimly. "Possible spinal damage, broken ribs—internal bleeding. We need to stabilize before we move her."

"Do everything you can," Greg said sharply. "We’ll deal with the rest later."

As they worked, Greg turned and watched Cammy through the open gates—now sitting in the backseat of their car, holding Dylan close, whispering softly to him as she rocked him gently in her arms.

The world was still spinning wildly around them, but in that car, wrapped in the circle of Cammy’s arms, was a small flicker of peace. One they all desperately needed to hold onto.