“Come on!” I counted aloud, forcing rhythm into the chaos. “One, two, three, four...”
“Clare...”
“Don’t! He’s not gone. He’s not...”
“I wasn’t going to say stop.” Hellhound’s tone cut through my panic, firm but not harsh. “I was going to say I’ll take over if you need a break.”
“I don’t need a break. I need him to live.”
“Then keep going. I’ve got your back.”
Fifteen compressions. Sixteen. Seventeen.
I tilted Xavier’s skull back, pinched his nose, breathed into his mouth. Two breaths. Watching his chest rise, fall.
Back to compressions.
“Havoc!”
“96%! 98%...”
Thirty compressions. Two breaths.
Xavier’s face was slack, lifeless. No response.
You can’t save everyone.
“Watch me.” The words came out vicious. “Watch me save him.”
Compressions. Respiration. Compressions.
“99%!”
The monitor beeped.
Once.
I froze, palms still pressed to Xavier’s chest.
Another beep. Weak. Irregular.
But there.
Xavier gasped. His chest heaved, pulling air in a ragged, desperate inhale. His cardiac rhythm stuttered back, erratic but beating.
“100%! I’m in! I have the codes!”
I collapsed forward, forehead pressed to Xavier’s shoulder, my whole body shaking.
I did it. He’s alive. I saved him.
“Clare.” Havoc cut through my relief. “You have to enter them. I’ll walk you through it.”
I forced myself upright, swiping at my face. My palms were shaking so hard I could barely grip the tablet Havoc shoved at me.
“What do I do?”
“The device connects wirelessly to the implant.” Havoc pulled up the interface on the tablet screen. “Three code sequences. You have to enter them exactly, in order. First one stops the chemical release. Second locks the regulation system so it can’t restart. Third disables remote access, the kill switch.”
