I lean a bit sideways, but I don’t move from Eli. I never will again.
“Looks like it might have started clotting,” he mutters. “Knuckles saved his life. He could have slowly bled out had he not pressed his hand there.”
I nod, jaw tight, and cup Eli’s head in both hands as much as the damn tape allows. His eyes flutter open, dazed and terrified.
“Stay with me, pretty boy,” I whisper. “Right here. Eyes on me.”
The corners of his taped mouth tremble.
He’s trying to smile for me.
God help me.
“Van’s here,” Bones says from the stairs, voice strained. “Fuck. Damnit, Knuckles.”
“We need to get him out of here, brother,” Maverick says quietly as he steps beside me, his hand landing heavy on my shoulder. “Want me to carry him? I’m only asking because you’re shaking, Skip.”
He’s right.
My whole body trembles like it’s running on rage and fumes alone.
But I tighten my grip on Eli, grounding myself.
“I got him,” I say, steadying my breath.
I look down at Eli.
His eyes are heavy, glassy, unfocused…and so damn scared.
“Baby,” I murmur, brushing my thumb under the edge of the tape to touch whatever skin I can. “Are you hurt anywhere we can’t see?”
He doesn’t answer me.
Shit.
“Alright,” I whisper, lowering my forehead to his just for a second. “I’m going to pick you up now, pretty boy. If I hurt you…even a little bit…I want you to pat my chest. Got me?”
He nods slowly, more tears falling, slipping along dried blood.
“I’ve got you,” I promise, voice cracking like something inside me is splitting open. “And I am never… not ever… letting you go.”
Carefully…so carefully I feel like my bones might snap from the tension…I gather him into my arms.
He folds against me like he was waiting for this moment, like his body recognizes mine.
I stand, holding him tight but gently, every instinct screaming to get him out of this fucking tomb.
I turn toward the stairs…and Tank is standing there.
He has Knuckles’ body slung over his shoulder.
My breath leaves me in one violent exhale.
Not a gasp. A collapse.
Knuckles’ arms hang limp, swaying with each tiny movement. His fingers are still stained with Eli’s blood, still curled like they’re trying to shield my man even in death.
My heart fucking cracks in half.
