“Do you need to prop her feet up for shock or blood flow back to the heart?” Ash punches the accelerator and races down the street as I hear him call Digits.
I shrug out of my cut. “With chest wounds, they should be laid flat unless there’s a breathing problem.”
As if on cue, Leeva coughs and wheezes with pink, frothy blood bubbling at the corners of her mouth, her shallow, weak breathing becoming ever more labored.
I gently lift her to put my cut, along with Ash’s that he just tossed at me, under her to elevate her slightly, and the wheezing stops. I pull my shirt off and use it to carefully put pressure around her wound and to hold the knife steady.
“Hold on, little dove.” With my free hand, I brush her hair back, making a hideous red smear across her temple. “Hold the fuck on, Leeva,” my voice cracks.
While Ash drives like a bat out of hell, coordinating with Digits to notify the hospital so they're ready for us and also with the police so they don’t try to stop us, I monitor Leeva.
Her skin seems like it’s getting colder.
Her shallow breaths sound wet and heavy, like they’re getting harder to take.
The pulse points on her neck and wrist are erratic but getting weaker.
“Go fucking faster, Ash!” I shout.
“Digits, I need that police escort!” he shouts, and the truck jerks. “Fuck!”
My body jolts with the movement of what I suspect was Ash avoiding hitting another vehicle, and I just barely avoid hitting the knife in Leeva’s chest.
“They should be there soon,” Digits yells back, and I hear the faint sounds of sirens.
“Hold on, Leeva.” With my free hand, I cup her cheek, transferring more blood onto her skin. Hertoo fuckingpale, cool skin. “You don’t get to die, little dove.” A tear falls from my eye and drips onto her cheek, carving a rivulet through the crimson red. “Don’t you fucking die.”
Her lashes twitch, then suddenly flutter. My heart is in my throat as they slowly lift, and I see her beautiful amber eyes.
But I don’t fool myself; I know this isn’t her regaining consciousness, and this doesn’t mean she’s out of danger. I’ve been around too much death and know better. With trauma injuries, the body can release a surge of adrenaline, cause fluctuations in blood pressure…any number of reasons why the person might have brief moments of consciousness.
“Hold on, Leeva,” I grit, holding the knife steady while applying pressure, trying not to hurt her more. There’s a large slice on my hand from doing so, but I don’t register the pain. “Hold on, my girl.”
Her confused, hazy gaze swivels to me. Her bloody hand lifts, going for the knife, as she groans in pain.
“Don’t.” I intertwine the fingers of my free hand with hers. “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”
“Hayes…”
My heart damn near rips out of my chest to bleed at my feet, hearing her weak, shaky voice.
“Shh, little dove. It’s going to be okay,” I promise, even though she’s colder, clammier.
Her lashes lower before pulling up slowly, her eyes finding mine again. “Love…you.” A tear rolls down her cheek.
“I love you, too,” I choke. “But you’re not dying. Hold on, Leeva. Just hold the fuck on.”
There’s so much pain on her face. So much pain in her hazy gaze. “You…” Her fingers twitch in my mine. “Survive.”
My words to her:I’ll never survive losing you again.
“Iwon’tsurvive losing you again,” I croak. I’m crying but don’t register the tears, just the pain that’s shredding every piece of my heart and soul. “You fucking need tolive.”
“You…live,” she gasps.
Then her eyes close.
“Leeva!” I roar, squeezing her hand, but it’s limp and lifeless as she falls back into unconsciousness. “Leeva!”
