“EMS is here, brother,” Knuckles says from the doorway. “There ain’t enough room in there for them.”
“I’ll carry him out,” I say immediately, pushing to my feet.
“Don’t move him,” someone barks from behind Knuckles…a paramedic squeezes into the narrow space. “If he fell, he could’ve hurt his neck or back. We need to check him before anybody picks him up.”
I freeze mid-reach, every muscle locked tight.
“He’s been out God knows how long,” I snap. “I’m not just leaving him on the floor while we talk about it.”
The paramedic holds up his hands, calm but firm. “Sir, I get it. Let us do our job. We’ll get him out of here, but we need to make sure he’s safe to move first, alright?”
My jaw clenches so hard it aches, but I back off a few inches…just enough for them to squeeze in.
Knuckles grips my shoulder. “Skip. Let ’em work.”
I nod, but it’s barely a nod. My whole body is strung tight. I focus again on Eli’s chest, only taking a breath each time he does, as if my very will is what’s keeping his lungs working.
The paramedics kneel beside him, checking his neck, shining a light in his eyes, talking low to each other.
“Pulse is steady,” one of them says. “Breathing looks good. He’s just unresponsive.”
Just?
Like that makes any of this better.
They slide a stabilizer behind his neck and start shifting him onto a board.
The second they lift him, I step forward, hands out.
“I’m riding with him,” I say. Not a question. Not a request. A fact.
The paramedic doesn’t argue. “That’s fine. We’ll get him downstairs and into the rig. Stay close.”
Like I’m gonna be anywhere else.
“Tell Spike I’ll be back once Eli’s awake and ready to leave,” I call out over my shoulder as the paramedics start wheeling Eli toward the door. My voice sounds steadier than I feel. Barely.
“Yeah, fucking right, brother,” Knuckles fires back. “We’ll meet you there.”
I follow the stretcher down the hallway, ignoring the neighbors gawking out their doors like vultures waiting for something to fall over dead.
“Show’s over,” I snap at them, voice low and mean. “Get back inside.”
Doors slam shut real quick after that.
The paramedics maneuver the stretcher into the elevator, and I’m inside before the doors even finish opening. Eli looks too small on that damn board, too pale, too quiet.
Not okay.
I lean down, close enough that my breath brushes his ear.
“I’m right here, pretty boy. You’re not alone. Not for a damn second.”
His eyelashes don’t even twitch.
The elevator doors slide closed, sealing us in this buzzing metal box, and for a heartbeat, the world goes still.
Knuckles’ voice echoes faintly from the hall as the doors shut:
