“Move. Baby. Fucking move.”
Terror made her stand like a statue as the bull raced toward her, and my heart smashed into a million pieces.
Not her. Not my Brownie. Please God, not her.
Chapter 48
Angel – Sarah McLachlan
Wilder
As Petey stampeded toward her, something must have jarred inside Tally’s head because at the very last second she jumped out of his path. Yet, even though she had, the sound of her scream was like nothing I’d ever heard before. A high-pitched shriek of pain and terror like the devil had shown himself to her. My heart and lungs were crashing into each other, fighting furiously to surrender to the blackness that was enveloping me.
Stumbling down the hill, I careened to Tally, lying torn and bleeding on the ground. The world tilted sideways, gravity pulling me toward herbroken form with sickening inevitability.Her shirt was torn, a huge angry gash in her side seeping dark red blood and her arm was at a strange angle. Everything looked wrong. Broken. Destroyed. The metallic scent of blood hit me, thick and choking.
“Brownie, baby. Look at me.” I wanted to drag her into my arms, to pull her against my chest, but I knew I couldn't move her. Every instinct screamed at me to gather her up, to somehow absorb her pain into my own body.She was deathly pale. Her skin had taken on a waxy, translucent quality that terrified me more than the blood. Her lips parted on the last notes of her scream as she took shallow breaths. Each one rattled, wet and labored. “Please Brownie, hang in there.”
My hands shook so violently I fumbled with my phone, trying three times to dial 911, screaming internally at myself to get it together. The screen was smeared with dirt and sweat, my fingers slipping uselessly across the glass.
“911 what's your emergency.”
I took a breath, steadying myself at least to give clear instruction on what we needed. My voice came out steadier than I felt, muscle memory from years of ranch emergencies taking over.
“Ambulance needed at The Last Creek Ranch. A bull injury. Deep gash left hand side. Left arm looks broken. Location is west of the main house, follow the track past the stables.”
“Sir, is the person still breathing?”
“The fucking person is my girlfriend. Yes she's breathing just get here.” Rage flared hot and sudden, burning through the icy fear.
“Sir I need to?—”
“No, you damn well don't. Get someone here as soon as you can.”
“Do you see the bull? Is it?—”
“We live on a ranch. We know how to deal with the bull. Just get the ambulance here.” As soon as I ended the call I dialed our emergency group number. My thumb hit the button so hard I nearly dropped the phone. My brothers answered almost immediately.
“Wild. What's wrong?” Nash demanded.
“Tally's…” I inhaled a sharp, terrified breath, “been gored by Petey. He's loose. Have called the medics but could do with some support here. I'm by the paddock.”
“I'm on the bull.” Gunner ended the call.
“I'll be with you in two minutes.” Nash left then and I was back to being alone.
I leaned closer to Tally, checking and hoping to every god that fucking existed that she was still breathing. Her breath ghosted across my cheek, so faint I had to hold my own to feel it. Too invested in her, I didn't look up when I heard feet thundering thinking it would be Nash. When they carried on past me, I caught sight of whoever was running in the opposite direction. They were dressed all in black, hood up, and desperate to get away. The figure moved with purpose, not panic, someone who knew exactly what they'd done.
“Help me, you bastard,” I screamed. “Come back.”
It was pointless they just kept running and somewhere in the deep vestiges of my brain that wasn't on Tally, I knew they were responsible for something that had led to this. A flash of understanding cut through the fog, this wasn't an accident. There was nothing I could do, though, she needed me.
The bleeding had suddenly got worse, the deep claret of her shirt spreading wider and faster. The fabric was sodden, heavy with blood that pooled beneath her in the dirt. Pressing my hands to her wound, my heartbeat too fast. Her blood was warm, sickeningly warm, pulsing against my palms with each weak beat of her heart.As the color continued to drain from her the harder I pushed against the gaping hole. I could feel the torn edges of flesh beneath my fingers, the horrifying depth of the wound.
In the direction of the house, I heard a truck approach, and the relief hit me hard. “Someone's coming, baby. You're going to be okay, I promise.” I pressed my forehead to hers, willing my words to reach her wherever she'd gone.
My hope turned to horror when I heard the shrill scream of a child—Bertie. Dread, cold and evil covered me, chilling me to my bones. My stomach dropped, a second nightmare layering over the first. Please don't let Petey have hurt her too. Then the engine of the truck started to rev and witha screech of tires I heard it scream away. Getting further into the distance. The sound faded like hope dying.
Had whoever was driving it taken Bertie to the hospital? Not bothering to wait for an ambulance. Blood started to seep between my fingers, and I lost all sense of what to do. I couldn't stop it, couldn't save her, couldn't do anything but watch her slip away. Panic started to rise as I tried to pace my thoughts. Tried to calm myself enough to be able to help her. My vision narrowed, tunneling down to just her face, her shallow breaths, the blood.And where the hell was Nash.
