Her heart stops twice on the way to the nearest hospital.
The first time, Cain hisses to let her die.
By the second, he’s regained some of his bearings and realizes that her death would make it much more difficult to track down Azalea.
His version of an apology for nearly killing her is to shut down the hospital we commandeer.
We go to a discreet location where Nighthawks have connections, but it’s not enough to stay completely off the radar. The nightmare that took place tonight will have a lot of cleaning up that needs to be done by Tobyandthe rest of our forces.
Ember’s rushed directly to surgery for a collapsed lung, and a piece of rib poking her heart.
I wait in the next room over—a sterile, empty surgery room—pacing the length of the floor. I wanted to be inside the OR where Ember is, but was categorically denied entrance, and I let it lie. I won’t do anything to hurt her chances of survival.
And, from the looks of it, her chances aren’t particularly good.
Cain goes back to the compound to coordinate cleanup and curb fallout three hours into surgery.
On the fifth hour, Greyson walks into the room.
I’m sitting on the no-longer-sterile surgery table, my head buried in my hands. There are no cameras here, which is why I chose to make camp here.
“She’s out of surgery,” he says. “Docs think she’ll be fine, but they don’t recommend transporting her.” He lifts a shoulder. “We don’t have much of a choice. Cain’s requesting we bring her back to the compound. It should be fine—we’ll just have to be really,reallycareful about it. Commandeer an ambulance, keep her hooked to monitors and fluids—”
I nearly fall off the table with the force of my relief. For the first time in my adult life, I actually think I might cry.
“I want to see her,” I rasp.
“You will. If you give the approval, it’s wheels out in thirty.”
“Will it hurt her?”
“Not if we’re careful.”
“Then we need her back in the compound.”
Just because Dagon’s dead doesn’t mean that all of his supporters are dead. He had a verifiable army backing him; the fallout from this isn’t going to be small. His generals will now be scrambling amongst each other to figure out who gets to take the throne—andCainplans to take the throne himself, which will be a battle of its own.
The only problem is, he’s in no position for a hostile takeover while Azalea’s missing.
With all of the dominoes falling, one after another, I know that the next few days are going to be an utter shitshow.
Ember’s so pale she scarcely looks alive while we make the grueling six-hour drive back to the compound. I sit beside her, alternating between staring at her and staring at the monitors showing her vitals. Everything looks stable, but that doesn’t make mefeelany better.
I left her. From her perspective, I fuckingabandonedher. I was only following orders—Cain’s plan—but still.
I couldn’t bring myself to even watch her after I told her about the trade, so I missed how my Viper sewed a razor blade into her skin. How she prepared to kill Dagon, and how she probably planned to die in the process.
Her bravery and conviction never cease to amaze me.
When I saw Cain cock the gun and prepare to shoot her, I nearly lost my mind altogether. I was ready to bash his brains in then, and again when he said to let her die. I forgot all about chain of command—my only focal point was Ember.
She’s so deeply ingrained inside who I am, I’m not sure I can survive without her. In fact, I’m certain I can’t.
When we finally get her back to the compound, she’s rushed straight to medical, where our team of docs immediately get to work. She doesn’t need any more surgery, thank fuck, but she does need prolonged rest to recover.
I stay by her side every second of every hour. I forget about the passage of time; my world narrows into a single point of focus.Her. And, as the seconds and minutes trickle by, I keep waiting for her eyes to open.
Only it doesn’t happen.
