The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 231

My breath caught in my throat as shock paralyzed me, watching the screams die on her lips as she stared up in shock. The sight of Bruce, his features twisted with a mix of horror and regret, sent a shiver down my spine.

“What have you done?” I managed to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper, my mind reeling from

the suddenness and brutality of the act.

Bruce stood there, aghast at his own actions, his hands shaking as he stared at Stella’s prone form on the ground. Guilt and remorse etched lines of anguish on his face, a stark contrast to the violence he had just committed.

The room felt suffocating, the air heavy with the weight of what had transpired. The silence that

followed was punctuated only by the sound of ragged breaths and the distant wail of sirens.

I was frozen in shock and horror, my mind struggling to process the gruesome scene unfolding before me. It was getting to a point where I couldn’t stomach the violence.

Stella lay on the floor, her cries of pain piercing the silence, blood seeping from the wound that had torn through her.

“Help her, do something!” I pleaded, my voice cracking with urgency as I rested my gaze on Stella’s quivering form. The gash had been just inches from her protruding stomach, and I winced at the damage that could’ve been done to the child growing inside.

Bruce’s ego clashed with the urgency of the situation. His wounded pride seemed to cloud his judgment, his reluctance evident as he stood there, motionless.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Bruce retorted sharply, still holding up a façade and trying to mask the panic that flickered in his eyes.

Stella’s cries reverberated through the room as she rolled across the ground and clutched her stomach. With trembling hands, she reached for the knife embedded in her abdomen.

“No, Stella, don’t!” I cried out in horror. “That could make it worse!”

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Regardless of my warnings, she attempted to tear the knife out, and I feared it would worsen the bleeding. Thankfully, she seemed to give up after a few tugs, already winded from the pain.

A sense of helplessness washed over me as Bruce, in a frenzied panic, abruptly shut off the camera and stage lights. The room plunged into darkness, the only sound being Stella’s agonized sobs echoing through the suffocating space.

Desperation clawed at my chest as I looked at Bruce, and I tried to keep my voice steady. “Bruce, please! You have to help her,” I implored, my voice quivering with desperation.

I grasped at straws, trying to evoke any emotional response from him. “She’s pregnant, Bruce. She’s carrying a baby,” I pleaded, hoping that the mention of an innocent life would stir some compassion

within him.

But my

Bruce’s gaze cold and unyielding.

was moving again. Still curled up, she had her

number. Her trembling fingers raced across the screen and tears filled her red eyes.

in a frantic attempt to prevent her from making the call. His actions

the line open, the

on the screen. I concealed my reaction,

interjected casually, masking the urgency in my voice, “you need to get help down here in

to be a doctor, but

darkening as he contemplated the gravity of the situation. His panic and desperation were

of

as she struggled against Bruce’s

crackled with tension, the gravity of the moment weighing heavy on all

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be another witness,” Bruce spat out, his voice laced with

you, Evie. I can’t have any witnesses.”

a shiver down my spine. His cold,

imminent danger seeping into my

retorted, my voice steady despite

have reservations about this. I

resolve he tried to uphold. His expression wavered and he balled up

room fell

of our predicament looming

have to do this,” I urged, learning toward him. “Let someone help Stella.

out together.”

“Would you just shut

went on, prepared to crack the surface. “You have a soft side somewhere in there,” I lied. “You wouldn’t want to

seemed to tug at something within him, a trace of empathy trying to surface amidst his

back. He looked around, looking even more at a loss when his suddenly landed on something

eyes

the ground, Timothy’s name written on the screen in bold. The timer for the call had reached five minutes, and Timothy had been. patient enough to hang onto every word. In a panic,

guide him somewhere. Even with him disconnected, my mention

fixed upon Stella.

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