Phoenix
“Hang on, buddy, we’re taking you to the hospital right now!”
As soon as I saw Father Marcellus on the ground, I had lifted him up and carried him to the nearest van. This was no time to call 9-1-1, no time to call Kaitlyn or one of the medical staff; we had to get him to the hospital.
It was quite possibly the only chance to save his life.
“Phoenix, remember what I said?” Father Marcellus said, groaning and gritting his teeth as every movement seemed to sap his life. “Some things in life... you must let go.”
“Shut up,” I said. “Save your strength and don’t move or talk.”
“Phoenix,” he said in a chillingly calm tone. “I have told you everything I must.”
By that point, I had turned on the van. I didn’t wait to see if anyone else was following me; I was sure they would, anyway. I put Father Marcellus in the passenger’s seat and sped like a fucking demon on the roads. I didn’t even check to see if anyone was coming the other way or across at us. I trusted that the sight of a white van going eighty miles per hour in a small town would give them the fucking clue something was wrong.
“Phoenix.”
“Shut up!” I yelled, not understanding why he just couldn’t keep quiet.
We were going to save him, damnit. He was fucking Father Marcellus—the chaplain just didn’t die from violence. He was too good a man, too virtuous a soul to meet an end by bullets.
“You know how to defeat the Saints,” he said, his face growing paler by the second. “You did it tonight. If you want to emerge victorious... unite the clubs. As you did... tonight.”
As I did tonight?
But I didn’t—
We pulled up to the hospital and I immediately jumped out of the van.
“Help!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. “He’s been shot!”
A gurney was wheeled out seconds later, but it still felt too slow. They needed to be ready to go—someone should have fucking called in to say that a gunshot victim was coming. Why the fuck had no one from the Black Reapers done that?
I followed the medics to the operating room, but the doctors and nurses wouldn’t let me in. About thirty seconds later, the entire officer corps of the Black Reapers showed up.Thirty seconds too slow.
No. Not their fault.
We’re all too slow.
“How is he?” Axle asked.
I didn’t answer. I had no fucking idea. And besides, the question barely registered as something I needed to answer. I was just praying, hoping, doing everything I could—which was basically nothing—to try to get Father Marcellus through the night.
“We’re losing him!” one of the nurses shouted in the room.
“No!” I screamed, pounding my fists on the glass window before me.
Someone put their hand on my shoulder. They were damn lucky I didn’t throw an elbow or a punch in response. I was too... I couldn’t even find a fucking simple word to describe how I felt.
First my father... and now Father?
It couldn’t fucking be.
No. No.
No!
It wasn’t his time. He was the only link between the two clubs. He was the only one willing to fucking cross lines.
