The doctor takes a breath. “Ella has sustained massive injuries to her stomach and kidney. She lost a lot of blood. She’s stable but not out of the woods yet.”
“What does that mean?” I ask. “She’s going to be okay, though? If she’s stable?”
His look is sympathetic. “Her heart stopped during surgery. It’s under too much strain, so we have to wait and see if she’s stronger tomorrow.”
“But …” I swallow hard. “She won’t die.”
“All we can do is wait, sir.” His gaze glides over my face, and he frowns gently. “I’ll update you as soon as I know more. The other woman … we don’t have any ID for her.”
“Monty,” I say. “She’s a friend. Is she okay?”
“We completed her surgery successfully. It’s looking hopeful, but we’ll know more over the coming days.”
He leaves, and I lower myself back into my chair. Guy takes a seat on the far side of the waiting room, his head in his hands, and silence falls.
Ella will be okay. She’s strong; she’s a fighter. There’s no way she’ll give up the biggest fight of her life. The woman doesn’t know how to fail.
I don’t know how long I stare at the floor. Every squeak of footsteps has us all tense, but there’s no news.
So, we wait.
And we wait.
“Do you want a coffee?” Z asks quietly, and when I shake my head, he squeezes my shoulder and stands. I distantly hear him ask Guy the same thing, but I don’t hear Guy’s response.
We’re left alone.
Two men who love Ella the most.
So close to losing her.
Guy sniffs. “This is your fault.”
Words I’d expected, but they don’t hurt any less. “I know.”
“You’re never seeing her again. You stay the fuck away from her. You leave and you let her be happy.”
I lift my head to look at him, and hatred stares back atme. A father desperate at the thought of losing his daughter.
“I love her.”
“Then leave her the fuck alone,” he snaps back, his eyes shining.
The sound of heavy boots approaching has us looking at the door. I see the uniforms before I see the faces.
The doctor must have recognized me.
The young officer clearly thought it would be a false alarm, because his eyes widen when they land on me. He takes out his gun fast.
“On the ground.”
My eyes fall closed, and I breathe in deeply. Without argument, I get on my knees, then lower myself to the ground, holding my hands behind my head.
“Do not fucking move,” the officer demands.
He cuffs me, and I don’t fight.
He radios in that he has Gable Flynn in custody, and he reads me my rights.
