Chapter 34
Lily
My knees slam into the ground beside an unmoving Noah.
I shake him. “Noah! Noah!”
The forest is alive with movement, swarmed by more FBI and DEA running and finalizing their arrests. So many escaped into the woods, and flashlights cut through the darkness as search units spread out among the trees.
The heavy stomps of boots run up behind me, and someone grabs my shoulder, but Max barks and nips. “Ma’am, I need to make room for EMT.”
I don’t want to leave him.
I press my hands to his side, but the blood keeps coming. Too much. It’s too much.
The blood soaks his shirt and pools beneath him, spilling out onto the dirty leaves. His breaths are shallow and fragile.
I can’t breathe.
Eyelids closed, they flicker, his long lashes looking too peaceful, too resigned to fall deeper into unconsciousness.
Terrified and angry, I grab his shoulders and shake him. “No. You hold on. You stay with me. You saved my life like three times now—you can’t leave me. Do you hear me? You can’t!”
“Ma’am!”
An agent grabs at my shoulder again as the tears plummet down my face and onto Noah’s fleece. That stupid fleece I first met him in. Him and Max. The best man and the most loyal dog.
“Don’t touch me.” I shrug at the FBI agent—or DEA—I don’t know. I don’t care. I hate law enforcement, but Noah … oh no, Noah is so much more. He’s more than a badge and a uniform.
He’s my guardian. My safe place. Protector. Friend. Lover. The most dedicated son.
No. No, no, no.
“Please!” I yell, pulling at his thick arm. It’s heavy and limp, and panic claws up my throat.
I can’t. The thought of him not waking up—it rips through me like a blade. Life would be unbearable without him. Ice floods my veins as I picture it. Nights spent reaching for his hand that isn’t there. Resigned to the dip in his bed as my only comfort. Two headstones in the Pinebrook cemetery, mother and son. The thought guts me.
Helicopters circle overhead, high above the trees, and I overhear agents shouting about a medevac.
I lean closer, my forehead resting on his. “Stay with me,” I whisper. My voice shakes, but I lock my jaw willing it steady.Stay strong.
He doesn’t respond. His chest struggles to rise. The skin on his face is cold under my fingertips.
Max moves to lie down next to him, his snout resting on his other shoulder. He whines and more tears well in my eyes and trail down my face.
I want to scream, to pound his chest and make him stay. Life is shitty and cruel.
The rescue basket drifts in a slow descent through the dense canopy, swaying with the shifting wind. Agents dart around the site, bagging cash, weapons, and bricks of drugs pulled from the makeshift tables. Raven’s men who’d been caught in the raid andforced to their knees are cuffed and cursing as they’re escorted to off-road police vehicles.
But I don’t care.
Hurried footsteps push through the agents, and when they get to where we are, forceful hands yank me back.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” one of the paramedics calls into his radio, dropping to his knees beside him.
The man moves fast. One hand pressed into his side wound, another on the bullet hole in this leg. Another paramedic moves to look for an exit wound with no luck. They tear open their side satchels and stuff gauze into his still bleeding side as fast as they can pack it.
“Stay with us, Ranger.” The old paramedic taps Noah’s cheek, searching for a response.
