She coughs weakly, and more foamy blood coats the corners of her mouth, now more red than pink.
“Leeva!”
“Hold on, brother,” Ash grits. “We’re almost there. Just a few more minutes.”
Her eyes don’t open again. There’s no movement of her lashes or eyes under her lids. Her breaths are shallower, weaker. She coughs again, even weaker, and specks of red blood dot her lips.
Still stabilizing the knife, I pull my other hand free of hers so I can monitor her pulse. Her sofuckingweak pulse.
I’m losing her.
Leeva’s breath sounds like it’s rattling over her lips. A death rattle.
I’d heard it too many times as a Marine right before one of my comrades died.
“Ash, you need to go faster!” I stare at the woman I love more than life itself, who is fading right before my eyes.
Her skin is paler. Her breathing is even weaker. Large, bright red dots of blood now cover her lips. Her pulse…
Fuck, her pulse.
“I can’t feel a pulse. Ash, I can’t feel a fucking pulse!”
I raise up higher on my knees, trying to remain calm, as I feel both her wrist and her neck again, searching for her pulse.
There’s nothing.
I can’t remove the knife because then she’ll bleed out instantly for sure. But the chest compressions… Moving up and down with the knife embedded in her chest…
But I have no choice.
I remove our cuts from underneath her so I can lay her as flat as possible. Then, making sure my shirt is still around the knife to stabilize it, I place one of my blood-covered hands on her chest and place my other over it and begin chest compressions.
I block everything out, all the noise, including Ash, Digits, and whoever else is on the line. I focus every ounce of my attention and strength on the woman I love, whose life literally is in my hands. I focus on every compression, willing that to circulate the blood enough to keep her alive. I count out thirty compressions, then give her two breaths, and then do it all over again.
I talk to her the whole time; telling her how much I fucking love her. How we’re going to have a beautiful, long life together, even if I don’t truly believe I’ll survive the MC vote to live it with her. She’ll live. She has to.
“You have to live, Leeva.” My face is wet with tears, and my torso and arms are coated with blood and sweat. But still, I work on her, compressing her chest and giving her breaths, tasting her blood that coats her lips each time.
“Army, we’re here!” Ash slams on the brakes, jolting my body. “The trauma unit and surgery team are waiting for her.”
It’s like I’m outside my body, watching a movie in slow motion.
I gather Leeva into my arms and emerge from the truck, cradling her, both of us covered in her blood.
Ash shouts and runs beside me.
The team of nurses and doctors are there, racing toward us. Within the team, I see Trinity and Nina Jude—Dom’s sister, who is an emergency and trauma physician. They help me place Leeva on the stretcher.
Nina climbs on top of it, straddling Leeva, and resumes the life-saving chest compressions as Trinity and the others race away with her.
“Leeva!” I shout in terror, not wanting her to leave my side, even though I know they need to take her to save her. “Leeva!” My voice breaks as my PTSD and the blackness threaten to engulf me and drag me under.
My knees buckle, but I don’t hit the ground as Ash catches me.
“I got you, brother. Stay with me, Army. I got you, brother.”
Ash, my brother-in-arms, keeps me grounded and prevents me from spiraling further into hell as the medical team disappears with the only person I’ve ever lived for.
