Vail looks at me.
Her eyes are red.
Wet.
For a moment, we're just two women who love Gunnar, terrified of losing him.
Then she nods.
"He's a fighter. Always has been. Even when he was a kid—stubborn as hell. Never gave up on anything."
"He won't give up now."
"No." She takes a shaky breath. "No, he won't."
On the table, Gunnar groans.
The sound cuts through the chaos—raw and pained and alive.
My heart lurches.
"He's coming around," Gwen says. "Gunnar? Can you hear me?"
His eyes flutter.
Open.
Unfocused, glazed with pain, but open.
He's awake.
He's alive.
"Gunnar." Gwen leans over him. "You're at the clubhouse. You're safe. We're taking care of you."
His lips move.
No sound comes out.
"What's he saying?" Vail pushes forward, unable to stay back. "Gunnar, baby, what do you need?"
He tries again.
His voice is barely a rasp.
But this time I hear it.
"In... grid..."
My name.
He's calling for me.
I push off the wall, move toward the table on legs that feel like they might collapse.
Gwen steps aside, letting me through.
"I'm here." I take his hand—it's cold, too cold, slick with blood that's probably his own. "I'm right here, Gunnar."
