“It has to be!” she mutters, her eyes wide.
We both sprint towards the door, yanking it open and running out into the cool evening air.
Isaak is standing next to one of the cars. Alara bursts into tears and runs straight to her brother. “Oh, my word, you’re okay!” she yelps, crashing into him with a hug. He groans, looking a little bruised and a little tender.
I search the scene, frantic, trying to find Josiah.
I see home coming around the car at the back, supported by Benedikt and Ardalion. There is blood seeping over the front of his body, glistening against his shirt.
“Josiah,” I scream in horror, running to him.
“I’m…okay…” he groans with effort, clearly in pain.
“The doctor is on the way. He took a bullet for his brother. He saved Isaak’s life,” Nestor explains, gently guiding me out of the way so the men can help Josiah into the house. I stare in shock and disbelief, wanting to hold him, wanting to be there for him, but I know the best thing I can do right now is to stay out of the way.
They carry him straight into the east wing of the house, where the girls won’t see him. The doctors arrive a few minutes after everyone else and crowd into the room. I press myself against the far wall, refusing to leave and promising to stay right where I am.
I watch as they pull a bullet out of him. He is delirious, mumbling as he slips in and out of consciousness. They stitch him up and give him blood. They put him on a drip with medicine and painkillers.
I sit quietly, biting at my lip, chewing the inside of my cheek. Inside, I’m raging with fear, anxious for the man I love and desperate for him to be okay.
The doctor explains to me that he needs time. He needs to wake up on his own. That it’s up to him now to pull through.
“He’s strong,” I reply.
“He is strong, just be with him, talk to him. He’ll be okay,” he smiles and gently touches my shoulder.
Everyone is gone. Josiah is lying in a crisp white bed with crisp white blankets. He is bandaged up and I can’t even see the injury. I could pretend he was just resting, but my heart knows better.
The Pakhans all retire to their rooms for the night.
Alara and the twins sit with Isaak, celebrating his safe return.
I ask them all for peace and quiet while I stay with Josiah.
All night I sit at his bedside. All night, I hold his hand and wait for him to wake up.
The next day, I don’t move, either, and Isaak comes in to talk to me.
“Your husband is an incredible man,” he says quietly, standing behind me with his hand on my shoulder. “He will be okay.”
“I know,” I whisper. “Are you okay?”
“I am because of him. He saved my life. Not just rescuing me, but he took this bullet for me. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for this man,” he sighs deeply, and I turn to look at him. I can see the pain he is in. Guilt for being okay. Guilt that his brother is lying on this bed instead of him.
“Josiah wouldn’t have wanted this any other way,” I tell him.
“I wish I’d taken the bullet, though,” Isaak mutters.
“You would have been crying like a little bitch if you got shot,” Josiah mutters, his voice dry.
“Josiah!” I shout, excitement shooting through me like wildfire. “You’re awake!”
I lean over to hug him, and he groans in pain. “Sorry,” I grin, unable to stop smiling.
“Motherfucker, you seriously scared us!” Isaak scolds him. “Don’t ever do that again!”
“Yeah, sure, no problem. Next time I’ll just let them shoot you, I think. This was way too damn painful to do again,” he chuckles. But the laughter hurts him, too.
