“I got him,” Royce promises. “He’s one of us, even if he never got patched in. We’ll take care of him and any family he’s got left.”
Fuck, if his uncle didn’t already hate the club, I’m sure he will now. My consciousness threatens to slide away, but I wrench it back, refusing to let the darkness take me yet.
“Wilder, tell Devon about what happened here. Maybe he can get ahead of things for us while we go into hiding to lick our wounds,” I whisper.
“I’m not licking your fucking gunshot, Prez,” he mutters, hefting my heavy ass into the back of a cage.
I don’t know who’s driving, and it doesn't matter as several explosions get rid of the blood bath we just participated in.
“It’s too quiet,” I say, my eyelids heavy.
“I bet they paid the police to stay away,” Wilder agrees. “This shit stinks. Stay with me, Lore. No. Wait!”
His yell can’t keep me with him as my body forces me to stop fighting for now. The only way to get me to the hospital alive is if I keep up my strength by not worrying about the shit we’re neck deep in.
All that matters is seeing Marie’s pretty green eyes again. If anyone is listening, please let me be able to do that again.
Chapter One
Marie
Ifeel suspended between reality and horror, moving through the motions as people sweep me into my work. It’s as if I’m walking through molasses as I do blood work, set up IVs, and clean up cuts. It’s busy despite the late hour, and this is what I need so I won’t crumple into a corner.
Please be okay. You promised!
I offered to stay late so I could find out what’s happening with Lore’s five hour long surgery once my shift is over, and no one told me to go home.
I haven’t seen Wilder or Storm, but then, I haven’t gone into the waiting room to look either. I’m terrified of striding over the line of what I think I know, to what actually happened. If I have too much information, my mind will tell me there’s no way Lore can recover. I haven’t even peeked at his chart outside of what I originally wrote inside of it when he first came in.
I can’t bear to.
“I have to deliver this news to the motorcycle thugs,” the doctor groans, scrubbing his face in frustration as he begins to walk past me.
Checking the time, I see Lore is still supposed to be in surgery, yet we don’t have any other bikers in the ER at the moment.
“Wait,” I rasp, practically stumbling after him. I’m only an hour past my shift, but I’m dead on my feet. “He’s out of surgery?”
The doctor stops abruptly, glancing at me as if in surprise. His surgery cap is still over his red hair, and his eyes appear tired. “Marney, aren’t you supposed to be gone?”
“If you can’t remember my name, then I don’t have to respond to your question,” I reply, equally exhausted. I think my filter is broken. “What happened with the biker?”
“Oh. I worked on him for hours and he coded. We were so damn close,” he says, blowing out a breath as he taps the chart against his hand. “There was too much damage, and his heart couldn’t take it.”
But he’s so young…I have a mask of indifference on my face. My entire world is shattering around me. Lore promised me so many things. It’s funny, a little thing like a weak heart could break mine.
I can’t think of him as dead yet, so instead I drag oxygen into my lungs and hold my hand out.
“I’ll tell his friends,” I rasp. “My name is Marie for the record. Your bedside manner could use a little work, sir.”
“I know,” he says sheepishly. “Marie, shit. I’ll try to remember that. Names get jumbled in my mind with everything else bouncing around in there. Are you sure? I heard his friends were rough around the edges.”
“I got it.”
At least he’s not forgetting my name on purpose. The inane thought is all I can hold onto, as my soul screams for what could have been. Now, I’ll always wonder and grieve.
I wish Lore and I were bonded despite our issues so I could share his last moments.No.Marie, that’s masochistic. I suppose in a way, this is why I am offering to tell Wilder and Storm their president, best friend, and lover is dead. At least then, I’ll be able to silently be part of their pain.
“Folder, please,” I say patiently, holding out my hand.
