I almost whimper in defeat right before the second cuff clicks, but instead, I yelp as the metal ring breaks away suddenly, and his hands are ripped from mine.
Jensen’s arms are locked around him in a bear hug from behind, tearing his body from mine and dragging him across the kitchen with a burst of guttural exertion.
“Go!” He grates out, and Noah makes desperate swipes at his forearms with the knife. His arms don’t loosen, giving me a chance to run, but I can’t move.
Jensen’s face is washed out, and sweat is pouring off his skin as he struggles. This is all my fault. He is going to die because of me.
I don’t want to leave without him. I can’t.
The knife strikes bone, and he grumbles in agony, squeezing his eyes shut. “No!” I scream, lunging for them as he falls back, being sandwiched between Noah and the wall.
I don’t think. I don’t hesitate, grabbing Noah’s wrist with both of my hands and shoving upward as hard as I can.
I don’t know how…
But the blade lodges in his trachea.
His eyes go wide, but mine are wider, watching the blood pour from his throat.
Bursts of wet rasps escape him until his grip loosens, and his hand falls, but the knife remains buried deep in his windpipe.
When the frothy sputtering stops, his body goes limp in Jensen’s arms, and both men collapse to the floor.
“Jensen,” I breathe, swaying as I fall to my knees. The kitchen is spinning as I search his face, his body.
“Please, Jensen. Please,” I beg, crawling over him. His shirt is saturated, but my hands search for his wound, covering it with my palms when he cries out in pain.
“I’m sorry, dove,” he murmurs, not even opening his eyes.
“No, no, no,” I mutter. I need help, I need someone.
There’s no one here to save him.
I lift my hand, staring at the blood that belongs to the man I love more than anything, and bring it to my cheek, dragging the warmth of it across my face until it feels real.
I need to do something.
There is no one here to save him but me.
My trembling, bloodied fingers dig into my jaw until the gripping pain surges me into action. I stumble, attempting to stand, but on the second try, I make it to the sink and rip open the drawer there, pulling out all my dish towels and throwing them to the floor where Jensen lays bleeding to death.
My knees skid to the floor beside him again, and my hands twitch above him. I don’t know what to do; I’m not a doctor. I’ve never been able to stand the sight of…Blood.
I need to stop the bleeding.
His shirt is slick in my hands as I shove it up and away from his stomach, exposing the puncture a few inches below my name on his sternum and the blood welling from it.
How much blood can a person lose?
I shove a dish towel on it, putting all my weight against his abdomen.
“Jensen, please, wake up. Please, I need you, baby. Please, wake up.”
His eyelids hardly flutter, and my tears pour from my eyes, mixing with the blood coating his skin.
“I love you, Jensen. I need you. Do you hear me? I need you! Don’t fucking die on me. You promised not to leave me!”
Sound sputters from his mouth, but so does a drop of blood, smearing red across his lips.No, no, no, no.
