“Where’s the fucking medic?” His voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding. My ears ring with the thump of boots outside the room, distant gunshots, and the growls and snapping of claws as the dogs settle, but remain alert, low and dangerous.
I want to pull Trey toward me, to cradle him, but I can’t. Chace won’t let me, and I feel mad with panic, and whatever is still in my system. Everything is like waking from a nightmare.My fingers dig into his arms, desperate, leaving streaks of blood across my hands, as Trey jerks from Chace’s efforts. Sounds meld together. It’s like a constant roar in my ears. Shouts, shots, snarls, blood, static, ringing.
Get off him, you’re hurting him.
No. He’s trying to save him.
Every time Chace pushes down on his chest, I flinch as if I’m feeling the blows myself. I feel naked and afraid. My heart hurts. It breaks.
I feel like I am outside of my body. Holding Trey as he tries to float away, to move on.
“Ser—” I am tapped, I snap back to reality.
“Sera. Please. The dogs.” I look to Klause and Artemis. They are snarling, ears pinned back, barking at the crew standing at the entrance to the chamber, unable to advance.
“F-Fuss!” I call. Both dogs, stop their snarling and pad over to me, and Trey. His skin pale, lips blue.
Chace keeps shouting, but now it’s commands for the security team, for anyone who can move faster than I can think.
“Move the chains! Make room! Sera, get back!”
I feel my chest tighten, panic squeezing my lungs. The metallic scent of blood is thick, clinging to my hair, my skin. The concrete is cold under my knees. I can’t breathe, can’t see past the terror in his still face.
“Come on, come on, come on, you stupid motherfucker. Breathe for me.” Chace begs.
I whisper a prayer. Something I haven’t done in maybe a month. His head lolls sideways, eyes still. I bite back a scream.
The sounds outside intensify—more footsteps, the distant roar of engines, the angry barking of backup dogs. The air vibrates with it all, like the whole world is pressing down into this tiny basement, into this room.
Chace’s hands move faster now, more forceful, chest compressions brutal and relentless.
“TREYYY!” Chace roars, his hands press harder. An audible crack of boke snaps in Trey’s chest. The mania boils inside me again, frothing over. “Get me a fucking EMT, now! Someone fucking move. Sorry, brother, think I broke some ribs there. You’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.” He continues his chest compressions, a sheen of sweat taken hold.
I lean close, pressing my forehead to Trey’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of his blood. I whisper into his ear, desperate.
“I love you. Please, please come back to me.”
The words hang in the air, fragile, almost swallowed by the chaos. I can feel the weight of every second stretching longer, like the world has slowed down to focus on his chest, on his bloodied face, on the sound of my own ragged heartbeat pounding in my ears.
“Come on, Trey,” I sob. “Come on…don’t leave me…”
Chace shouts again, breath ragged. A new figure sweeps in in blue fatigues, large duffel bag set down, another comes in and pauses, a large orange board in hand, he looks over the dogs and freezes.
“Keep those dogs back.”
I press closer, unwilling to let go, even as the dogs nudge me, whining, trying to shield me from the chaos.
The floor is cold beneath my knees, slick with blood and water. Voices blur above me—orders shouted, boots pounding, the sound of someone counting under their breath.
“Pressure! He’s losing too much blood—get that line in now!”
“Trey,” I whisper, voice cracking. “Please—”
Hands push me back, gentle but firm.
“We need space, ma’am.”
Medics swarm him. One kneels over his chest, another checking the wound at his side. Blood seeps through the gauze faster than they can press it down. Chace’s face is ghost-white as he hovers close, barking orders I can’t hear over the chaos.
