There are fire fighters, first responders, and law enforcement crawling all over this campground. Just fucking lovely. Maybe I should've gotten Lilly out of here. The police are talking to everyone, asking questions. Reaper nods in my direction, a silent note that he's got some intel. I nod back. I'll dip out as soon as I'm given the opportunity, but I know I'm going to be stuck talking to the police considering my RV looks like a dilapidated tuna can.
My brothers know the drill. Don't say a fucking word. We know where this started and we're going to end it. Once and for all. I'm so sick of hearing the goddamn name Moccasin. And Gater? Gater is going to wish that he had never turned his back on this club.
"That piece of shit will never see the light of day again if I have anything to do with it," Conner growls, his face void of any emotion. It's almost scary.
"He's going to regret ever hearing the words Lucifer's Hounds because it will be all that he can remember, when he is nothing but a soul, floating in the void," I grit.
In the midst of the blinking lights, I see Shorty walking back over from the ambulance where the women were getting looked at.
"Carrie's leg has a pretty good gash on it and they think Lilly might have a concussion. They want to take them both to the hospital," Shorty says.
My head is definitely going to fucking explode. My chest is so goddamn tight that it's going to rip me wide open, straight down the fucking middle of my ribcage.
"Fuck!" I shake my fists.
"I can go with her, Prez," Shorty offers.
I huff in frustration. "Yeah. I'd appreciate it, thank you. I have to stay behind but I will get there as soon as I can."
"You want to tell her that yourself?" he asks.
That almost makes me laugh. "Yeah."
I follow him to the ambulance that has her strapped in mostly against her will. I didn't see it before, but there's a gash on the side of her head and blood is matted in her hair and down her neck. My blood boils staring at her like this. I'm going to rip Gater's throat out with my bare fucking hands.
"Baby, I need you to calm down," I say, my voice a bit more calm than I feel.
"I don't want to go. I can't. They're going to stick me with a needle," she whispers, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. I realize in this moment that she isn't reluctant to go because she's mad. She's fucking terrified. Her hands are trembling while she blinks tear after tear away.
My heart is going to fucking shatter inside my chest if I leave her. I'm so torn. I don't know what to do. I'm trying to make sense of where I need to be versus where I want to be. There's not even a question in my mind. Lilly needs me. My club has my back.
"Shorty, go ahead and stay. I'm going with Lilly. Conner's got it handled. Call Scott and get him up here," I say as the paramedics are trying to close the doors.
"He's already here," Shorty yells before the doors are closed.
I drop to my knees at Lilly's side in the bright back of the ambulance. She appears a little more at ease, but she's still a panicked mess.
The paramedic is a young guy with glasses and a clean-cut look.
"Miss Summers, I'm going to have to start your IV before we head to the hospital," he says softly.
Lilly's eyes widen, but she doesn't say anything. She just cries a little harder. I slip my hand inside of hers.
"Don't look at him or the needle. Look at me. I got you, baby," I whisper, looking so deep into her eyes. Urging her to feel the strength of my love. To feel at ease because I'm here with her, every step of the way.
She doesn't speak. She just keeps staring into my eyes. She flinches when the needle pricks her skin and her feet move in a rhythmic back and forth motion as she tries to steady her breathing. The IV is in and she's still very unsettled.
The paramedic notes her discomfort and makes a call, informing hospital staff that she is agitated but unable to receive a sedative due to her concussion.
My sweet, fierce girl. She's got her eyes shut tight, but her grip on my hand is firm. She's crying a little harder now, her chest heaves with her quick, shallow breaths. My eyes never leave her face. She slowly begins to calm down on the ride to the hospital and by the time we arrive through the emergency exit, the wet streaks of tears on her face have dried.
Lilly is wheeled into a room, and I stay right there with her the entire time. I'm not leaving her side for even a millisecond. We sit for three hours, she gets prescribed some strong Tylenol basically, and I'm assigned caregiver to watch her like a hawk and monitor her symptoms.
We're at the hospital halfway between the rally and home. I'm not going back tonight. My main concern is getting her home and making sure she's okay. If I wasn't already planning to marry her, I'd propose again. Any woman who's willing to go through the shit she's been through for me and stay with medespite it is most certainly worthy of more than marrying. I'll spend the rest of my life figuring out what it is she deserves on top of a ring. And a house. I don't know that I'll ever meet the quota of what she deserves, if I'm being honest.
Scott is waiting outside for us when they discharge a very disgruntled Lilly. She climbs into the backseat of his truck and angrily buckles her seatbelt. Scott chuckles and I'm certain he's going to get us stabbed. Scott drops us off in the driveway and he and I do a sweep of the entire house first before bringing Lilly inside, just for good measure.
I don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight between watching her and making sure she's alive and not concussed, and also making sure no one uninvited shows up. I've triple checked the security system. There's a pistol on the nightstand and a shotgun leaning against the bed frame, right where my hand rests when I sleep.
