She’s been shot.
Panic consumes me as I drop to my knees, finding where the bullet entered her and press my palms to it to stem the bleeding. It’s in her thigh, there’s a hole where it has sliced through her, the blood bubbling and streaming out of her, seeping through the fingers I hold to her wound.
“Dean!” I yell frantically, the shake in my voice clear, “Get the ropes off!”
She thrashes under my hands, trying to move, to cry out but she can’t.
Dean hurries over, cutting through the rope before he gently takes the tape from her mouth and then her scream rips clearly through the warehouse.
“Stay still, baby,” I whisper, “Shh, I’ve got you.”
“You didn’t choose me,” She screams, trying to move away from my hands despite the amount of blood pumping through my fingers.
“I did. I’ll always choose you, Olivia.” I tell her. It wasn’t a case of not choosing her, I would choose her over and over but if I gave him what he wanted, he would have shot her anyway.
Tears stream from her eyes, her skin reddened from the tape, wrists, and ankles raw from the chafing of the rope.
“Stay awake,” I tell her when I see her lids starting to droop. “Call an ambulance!” I demand.
“The police,” Killian hesitates, looking to where Iwan and Stefan are restrained.
“Then get them the fuck out of here,” I growl, “But call a fucking ambulance.”
I don’t pay attention to what they do or who fucking does what, I keep pressure on the bullet wound and lift her leg above her body, trying to stem the blood flow.
“Stay with me, kitten,” I tell her, “Olivia!”
She mumbles something, her head lolling to the side.The shock, the blood loss and the trauma all wreaking havoc on her body. Sirens wail in the distance.
I’m covered in her blood and when I lean forward, gripping her face to try keep her awake, the red smears across her pale skin.
“Fuck,” I hiss, hearing my voice crack. “Wake up, baby.”
“It’s two minutes out,” Sebastian advises.
I flick my eyes to him, pleading.
The brothers are nowhere to be seen and neither are Iwan or Stefan. It’s just us in this rotting warehouse, the stench of fish now threaded with the smell of her blood, metallic and hot.
Sebastian adds pressure with me, looking desperately toward the door waiting for the paramedics.
“Olivia,” I croak, “Olivia, wake up, kitten.”
But she doesn’t. She looks too pale; her chest moves too slowly.
“She’s losing too much blood,” Sebastian says.
“I choose you, Olivia,” I beg, “I will always choose you.”
“Kai,” Sebastian whispers.
“She’s my wife,” My voice cracks, “I need her.”
“Hello!?” Someone yells.
“In here!” Sebastian bellows. “Hurry!”
I hear them rushing, I hear them asking questions, but I just kneel here, silently begging for her to wake up but she never does. There’s somuch blood.
