I hold pressure on the wound until my arms scream. Until I can’t feel my fingers. Ghost’s breathing evens out. His color improves slightly. The bleeding slows to a seep.
I did it. I actually did it.
But he’s not out of danger. Not even close.
“Ghost?” I touch his face. “Can you hear me?”
“Yeah.”
“I need to call Ash.”
“No signal.”
Fuck. He’s right. The cell service out here is shit.
But I have to try.
I grab my phone from the table. One bar. Flickering in and out.
It’s enough.
I dial Ash. The call connects, but the quality is terrible—static and breaking up.
It rings once. Twice.
He answers. “Bonnie?”
“Ash—” My voice cracks. “Ghost is hurt!”
Static. Then his voice, sharp with alarm. “—what?”
“He got shot! He just got back, and there’s blood everywhere, and I don’t know what to do?—”
More static. I move closer to the window, desperate for a better signal.
“—where is he shot?”
“His side. Left side. I got the bullet out, but the bleeding won’t completely stop.” I’m crying now, can’t help it. “Ash, I’m scared. What if he?—”
“—pressure on the wound. Don’t let up. Keep him conscious.”
The call breaks apart into static.
“Ash? Ash!”
“—can’t leave. Under attack. Hold on?—”
The call drops.
I stare at the phone. The compound is under attack. Ash can’t come.
We’re alone.
I look at Ghost on the couch. His eyes are closed again, chest rising and falling too shallowly.
My hand goes to my stomach. To the tiny life growing inside me.
I’m not losing either of them.
