No, no, no. Please.
He repositioned Adrian and pressed two fingers under his jaw. The pulse was faint, but he started CPR anyway.
Hands locked, he counted. “One. Two. Three...”
He hated this. Hated that a man he’d trusted had pushed it this far.
He was on the second cycle when he heard pounding at the door.
“Help me!” he hollered.
A heavy bang startled him, then another, before he heard the heavy door give way.
“Gage!” Roz barreled inside.
For a short moment, he didn’t speak, knowing his best friend was taking in the scene.
“What the fuck happened?”
“Call for a medic,” Gage gritted, still doing compressions.
“Command, this is Roz. I need immediate medical response to the pool.”
He kept working through the burn in his arms, his breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps.
“And send an alert to Scar,” Roz demanded.
Gage’s stomach dropped.
He didn’t want Scar or anyone, for that matter, to find out what really happened. He needed time to get control of the narrative.
Roz’s alert was going to spread like wildfire, and when Scar got wind of it, his fiancé would act first and ask questions later.
White Ravens
Gage
Gage got Adrian breathing stronger, but he was still glassy-eyed and dazed, blinking as if he couldn’t figure out where he was or how he’d gotten there.
His own hands were still shaking.
He’d almost killed a man.
Medical came in fast, shoes squeaking—barking orders—equipment rattling, someone rolling a gurney.
One man called out vitals as another tried to get Adrian to speak.
He mumbled something that didn’t form into words before he was quickly lifted and rolled away.
Roz threw a towel around Gage’s shoulders and ordered, “Arms out.”
He did it. Roz wrestled him into a robe, tied it around his waist, and pressed his cane into his hand.
Four other medical officers hovered before one touched his forearm. “Saint, let us check you out too.”
“I’m fine,” he said firmly.
The medic hesitated before she sighed and left him alone.
