Cradling his head, I gently lower him into the grass and put my ear to his mouth.
Please be breathing. Please.
One second passes by like an agonizing lifetime, but in that second, I offer my life to whatever higher power exists to save him. That if the Reaper needs a soul today, to take mine.
“Don’t you fucking dare give up. You hear me?” I shout, starting chest compressions. “Syn loves you. You’re about to be a dad.”
My arm muscles burn with exertion as I pump his chest.We haven’t gotten a chance to be brothers yet. I want that chance.
“Aleksei, don’t let them take him,” I beg, knowing he will fight heaven and hell, angels and demons, to save our brother from joining the afterlife.
One…two…three…twelve…twenty-nine…
A jagged gasp of life erupts out of Tristan, and the profound elation I experience is overwhelming. Tears I can’t stop from forming fill my eyes.
Tristan dazedly blinks up at me through coughs. “What?”
Holding him down when he tries to move, I check his pulse with two fingers on the side of his neck. It’s fast but steady. “I need you to lie still and not move.”
Of course, he doesn’t listen. The stupid ass attempts to sit up.
Trying to be gentle, I restrain him. “I will knock you unconscious if I have to. You’ve got a nasty gash on your forehead.” Understatement of the year. His entire face is painted crimson with blood.
Ripping off my shirt, I press it against the ugly wound to slow the bleeding.
Phone. I need my phone.
Keeping the pressure on with one hand, I reach into my back pocket and bring the phone up to my face. It unlocks, and I hit the Emergency Call button at the bottom of the screen.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” a female dispatcher asks.
“My brother is hurt. We need paramedics. Please hurry.”
“Can you tell me your location?”
“Brambury Road, about five miles outside of Darlington. Just tell them to look for the car on fire.”
“Your car is on fire?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Sir, are you hurt?”
I don’t know.
“My brother is hurt.”
“Is he breath?—”
“How long?” I interrupt her.
“Paramedics are in route.”
“How long?” I ask again, getting irritated.
“They should be arriving in ten minutes. Someone from the sheriff’s?—”
I hang up on her and pull up my contacts.
