"Medic!" she's shouting, panic cutting through her voice. "I need a medic!"
"Ava, I'm okay. It's not that bad." But the words feel distant, and the world's starting to tilt in ways that suggest I'm wrong about that.
Falcon's face appears above me. "Hang on, brother. Medical's on the way."
"Sarah," I manage. "She safe?"
"Safe at the compound, Sterling's got her." He looks at Ava. "Keep pressure on that wound. He's going to be fine."
"He better be," Ava says fiercely. "Because I'm not done with him yet."
I want to tell her I'm not going anywhere, I want to reassure her that I've survived worse. But darkness is creeping in at the edges of my vision, and the last thing I hear before everything goes black is Ava's voice calling my name.
Chapter 10
Ava
The hospital waiting room smells like antiseptic and bad coffee, and I've been here for three hours without any real update beyond "he's in surgery." Three hours of pacing, of replaying the moment Mason collapsed on that tarmac, of trying not to think about all the ways this could go wrong.
Falcon's been here the whole time, silent and solid, his presence the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart. The rest of the brothers filtered through, checking for updates, offering support in the gruff way men like them do. But most have gone back to the compound, back to their lives, because sitting in hospitals doesn't change outcomes.
"You should eat something," Falcon says, not for the first time.
"I'm not hungry."
"Didn't ask if you were hungry. Said you should eat." He stands, crossing to the vending machine. "When's the last time you had actual food?"
I try to remember and can't. "Yesterday sometime."
"That's what I thought." He feeds bills into the machine, punching buttons until he's got an armful of protein bars and bottled water. "Here. Eat."
I take the offerings because arguing with Falcon seems like a bad idea even under the best circumstances. The protein bar tastes like cardboard, but I force it down along with half the water.
"He's going to be okay," Falcon says, settling back into the chair beside me. "Ice Pick's survived worse than this."
"Has he? Because watching him collapse covered in blood felt pretty fucking bad from where I was standing."
"He's been shot twice, stabbed more times than I can count, and once got run over by a rival club's prospect who didn't know how to handle a bike." Falcon's mouth quirks. "Man's got nine lives, and he's only used about six of them."
Despite everything, I almost smile. "That supposed to make me feel better?"
"It's supposed to remind you that Mason's a fighter. He has been since the day he prospected for the club. Whatever's happening in that operating room, he's fighting to get back to you."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I've known him for eight years, and I've never seen him care about anything the way he cares about you." Falcon's expression softens slightly. "He told me once that love was a weakness, that caring about someone made you vulnerable. And then you showed up and proved him wrong."
"I didn't mean to."
"Best things never are intentional." He leans back, arms crossed. "You're good for him, Ava. You make him think about a future beyond the club, beyond the violence. That's rare for men like us."
"Men like you?"
"Men who've made peace with the fact that we probably won't die old in our beds surrounded by grandchildren. Men who've accepted that violence is part of who we are, what we do."He pauses. "Mason was heading down a dark path before you came along. He was becoming Ice Pick more than he was being Mason. You brought him back."
I don't know what to say to that. Don't know how to process the idea that I've somehow saved a man I'm pretty sure saved me first.
A doctor appears in the doorway, still in surgical scrubs, and I'm on my feet before he can call my name.
