I don’t have to wait to find out.
Damien turns to me with a determined stare and drapes my own arm over my belly, making sure I cradle the small bloat in my hand.
“Hold on tight,” he warns before he bends down and picks me up by both legs, wrapping them around his waist before snaking an arm under my ass.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I circle my free arm around his neck to grip his shoulder, keeping myself steady.
“We’re getting in that fucking building. Carter?” Damien nudges his head, and Carter starts to push through the crowd of people—with us immediately following. I let out a small, unbelievable chuckle that comes out sounding more like a nervous hiccup.
“You’re carrying me like a kid?”
“Well, you’re carrying precious cargo. I can’t have people knocking into you.” I know he means that in a playful way, but his tone is anything but lively. He only looks down at me briefly, and then focuses forward again, weaving in and out through the people. He cradles the back of my head with his other hand, and I just stay buried in the space between his neck and shoulder, not wanting to see the commotion around us.
A few people nudge into us as we make our way, but thankfully, it seems pretty easy to navigate. At least, he makes it seem simple. The deeper into the mob we get, the hotter it becomes, and I seem to develop spontaneous claustrophobia.Suddenly everyone is too close, and I can smell the different body odors from everyone standing out in the heat, which isnothelping the already-humid air. There are a few ‘hey’s and ‘what are they doing’s that get thrown around by the crowd, but Damien doesn’t let it faze him. It’s only once we duck under the yellow police ‘do not cross’ tape that he sets me down and instantly drags me forward. Tony quickly comes into view, looking more nervous and stressed than I’ve ever seen him.
“Everyone, please! We need to clear the bay area!” he yells through a megaphone, but people are so upset that they’re not paying a bit of attention. Everyone is screaming at him and throwing their fists in the air, demanding answers. Which, I completely understand. That’s what we’re here to get, too. But blocking the ambulance entrance to a hospital is not going to get them anything but more lives lost.
“What the fuck is all of this, Tony?” Damien asks, gesturing towards the horde. I can tell by his annoyance that he’s not happy with how the police are handling the situation, and Damien isn't one to keep his opinions to himself.
“Immediate families of the victims have been brought inside, but we obviously couldn’t get everyone. We had too many in the waiting rooms, and some were starting fights. So, we set up an area at the front of the hospital instead. There’s more space, and it’s set up to make it easier to find families when we need to give news or lead them to rooms once the patients are situated, but it’s clearly gotten out of hand. People are refusing to move until they get answers, but the nurses and doctors can’t fucking find anyone like this.”
Tony is clearly anxious, sweat permeating his shirt. The city has never dealt with something of this magnitude. So, while I’m sure there’s a protocol in place, I’m assuming it’s never been utilized as anything more than a question on their tests. He was supposed to be sworn in as the Chief of Police this evening, butwith how today is turning out? The ceremony is not going to happen.
“You need help?” Damien asks with a half-sincere, half ‘I’m tired of this shit’ tone. Tony lowers the megaphone in defeat and shrugs his shoulders.
“Depends on the help,” he says with an attitude, and Damien scoffs before stepping up to the crowd. He then pulls his gun from the back of his pants and aims it towards the sky, not wasting a moment to fire it. The crowd makes various noises, some screams, gasps, and murmurs, but for the most part, silence falls over the space. He then puts his gun back down and addresses the mob.
“Listen up!” Damien yells, almost coming off as loud as the megaphone was. His voice carries authority and holds the weight of a king—something that immediately demands attention. “We understand your need for information, but this is only going to make it more difficult. Everyone back the hell up and let the professionals do their jobs. Leave the ambulance bay and redirect yourselves to the front of the hospital. Check in with an officer, and they’ll direct you on where to go.” More murmurs come from the crowd, but very little people actually start to move. A few look around warily, like they don’t know whether or not to listen to him. “Now!” Damien’s voice booms, and people immediately kick their asses into gear. In a matter of seconds, the crowd starts to depart like a wave, rolling out towards the street and making their way to the front like they were told.
Holy shit, he’s got a hot dad voice.
I totally shouldnotbe thinking about that right now, but how can I not when he sounds so fucking hot? I’ll just continue to blame the hormones and the fact that my husband is a God pretending to be human. Obviously, not really, but it’s definitely believable.
When he turns back to me, it’s like he reads my mind, and a smirk sprouts on his face—only for a split second, though, like the urgency of the situation hits him again. Then he turns around in a full, slow circle, taking deep breaths like he needs to compose himself before he steps back up to me.
“Now is not a good time for that, little wolf,” he says through a huff, taking my hand once again and leading us through the emergency room doors.
Even though the ruckus outside has started to dissipate, the inside is hectic, and the air is thick with sadness and mourning—much like an emergency room normally does, but the concentration of death is more prominent than ever. The space is laced with souls, and it leaves a lingering chill to the air around us. I can’t help but shiver as we fully make our way in, and I shrink into Damien’s side, needing more warmth for the first time all summer long.
Tony was right. It’s absolutely packed in here as well. There are families crying and huddling together, while others look like nervous wrecks. I immediately try to find Zeke, and my nerves rattle every second I don’t see him. Things may still be a little weird between us, but he doesn’t need to be alone right now.
We’ve talked some here and there aboutourparents, but knowing that we’re siblings is still just a lot to digest. I’ve been a little selfish about it, I’m not going to lie. I had to think of all the trauma that I dealt with alone when I could’ve had him beside me. I know it’s not his fault. It’s just another thing that my parents fucked up, but I still can’t help but have some mixed emotions about it all.
Carter walks into the furthest waiting area and looks around, shaking his head and signaling Zeke’s not there either as he walks back over. We continue to look around the corners and study every face until Damien steps forward again.
“There,” Damien declares, and I snap my head back to him, then to where he’s directing. He points through the double doors towards the rooms, and I see Zeke talking to Derek. Both men stand tall and tense, like the weight of the entire world is on their shoulders. Only with Derek, his stance is exhausted, but stoic—almost prepared, like he recited what to say to families at least one hundred times before his shift. Zeke’s posture is strong, but shaken—like if someone did so much as poke him, he’d crumble, and the sheen on his forehead and in his hair from his worry is visible from here. They talk close together, like they’re speaking about something intimate.
And there’s not a single sign of hope in either of their eyes.
Zeke’s face morphs into something horrified, and that’s when he shatters my heart with a yell so agonizing that it carries his pain with it—barreling its way through the doors. It bounces off the walls like a raging bull or a rabid animal sent from hell to collect another life. Damien lets go of my hand and forces his way through the swinging doors towards him, catching up to him just in time to help Derek grasp him before he falls to his knees.
Tears immediately flood my eyes, and I have to cover my mouth to suppress a sob. His agony only means one thing, and my chest immediately clenches. His world is now laying in tattered shreds, and there’s nothing I can do to help him—nothing anyone can do to make this go away.
Taylor is dead.
Damien sinks to the floor with him, and I can no longer see them as their image drops below the windows. I immediately want to push through them as well and take Zeke into my arms. I’m not even able to imagine the pain he’s feeling. My chest aches at the sounds of his whimpers and sobs. Instinctively, my feet move to take a step forward, but I stop myself. What if I only make things worse? What if he doesn’t want to be touched?Comforted? What do I do? How can I help him? The itch to dosomethingsurfaces, but I know I need to do whatheneeds. Whatever that is…
“Should I…” I start to say, but Carter squeezes my shoulder gently, silently telling me it’s okay.
