“ZACH!”The scream that rips from her throat doesn’t sound human.She stumbles forward, nearly falling in her haste to reach us.“My boy!My baby boy!”
She collapses beside me, her hands hovering frantically over Zach’s blood-soaked body, afraid to touch yet desperate for contact.The raw grief in her eyes is almost unbearable to witness.
Before I can speak, a roar erupts from the doorway, a sound so filled with rage and pain that it momentarily freezes everyone in place.Butcher stands there, his massive frame silhouetted against the light from outside.When his gaze locks on to his son lying motionless in my arms, something breaks in his expression.
“GET THE MEDIC!”His voice booms across the compound as he charges toward us, moving with surprising speed for a man his size.“WHERE’S THE GODDAMN MEDIC?!”
A hand lands on my shoulder, trembling but firm.I turn to find Tiana kneeling beside me, her face streaked with tears and soot, eyes wild with fear and fury.
“Save him,” she pleads, voice cracking on the words.“You have to save him, Xavier.”The desperation in her tone mirrors the panic clawing at my own chest.
I force myself to breathe, to think.The doctor in me takes over, compartmentalizing my terror and focusing on what needs to be done.These people, Zach’s family, are looking to me with such desperate hope that it feels like a physical weight pressing down on my shoulders.
“I need space,” I command, my voice steadier than I feel.“Butcher, help me turn him so I can check the exit wound.Shaylin, find clean towels, sheets, anything absorbent.Tiana, my medical bag is upstairs in Zach’s room.Get it now.”
They snap into action, responding to the authority in my tone.I lean close to Zach’s ear, my lips almost touching his skin.
“I’m not losing you,” I whisper fiercely, the words meant only for him.“Do you hear me?I am not losing you today.”
I press my fingers to his neck, searching for his pulse.It’s there, weak and thready, but present.Each faint beat under my fingertips feels like a miracle, a small victory against the darkness.
Butcher kneels opposite me, his massive hands surprisingly gentle as they help position his son.The juxtaposition strikes me forcefully.This feared enforcer, this man capable of such violence, is now handling his child with the tenderness of a parent cradling a newborn.
“He’s strong,” Butcher says, voice rough with emotion he’s clearly struggling to contain.“Always has been.Even as a boy.”His eyes never leave Zach’s face as he speaks, as if maintaining visual contact might somehow tether his son to life.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak as I assess the damage.The bullet wound in Zach’s side has torn through muscle and possibly nicked his liver based on the volume of blood.The chest contusion from the impact on his vest has likely cracked ribs, possibly compromising his lung function.His breathing is shallow and labored, each inhale a visible struggle.
Tiana returns with my bag, sliding to her knees beside me as she thrusts it into my hands.I immediately dig for gauze packs and a hemostatic agent, my fingers moving with precision despite the tremor I can’t quite control.
Shaylin appears with an armload of clean linens, her hands shaking but her eyes fierce with determination.“What do you need?”she asks, mother’s love overriding her panic.
“Apply pressure here.”I direct her to the exit wound while I work on the entry point.“Firm and steady.Don’t let up, no matter what.”
She nods, positioning herself and pressing down with surprising strength.I can see her lips moving silently, prayers, perhaps, or promises to a god I’m not sure I believe in anymore.
Grey appears at the edge of our small circle, face grim with his own injuries.Blood trickles from a cut above his eye, but he seems oblivious to it.“Ambulance is five minutes out.Road’s been secured.”
I shake my head, feeling cold sweat break out along my spine.“He might not have five minutes.”I look up at Butcher, meeting his eyes directly.“I need to start an IV now and get fluids running.I have what I need in my bag, but I’ll need help.”
Without hesitation, Butcher rolls up his sleeve, exposing a thick vein running along his forearm.“Use my blood.We’re the same type.”
“That’s not—” I start to explain the impossibility of a direct transfusion in field conditions, but Tiana interrupts.
“We have universal donor blood packs in the medical room,” she says, already rising to her feet.“Club keeps them for emergencies.”
I blink in surprise, momentarily thrown off by the revelation that an outlaw motorcycle club maintains blood supplies.“Get them.Now.”
As she sprints toward the clubhouse’s medical room, I work to establish an IV line, my hands moving on autopilot after years of practice.Zach’s skin is pale and clammy beneath my touch, his veins collapsed from blood loss, making the procedure more difficult than usual.
“Come on, Zach,” I urge, feeling a surge of triumph as the needle finally slides home.“Stay with me.”
Tiana returns with two units of O-negative blood.I quickly check the seals and dates, then connect one to the IV line.It’s not ideal, field transfusions rarely are, but it’s his best chance.
Butcher watches me work, his face a mask of controlled fear.“Will he make it?”The question comes out almost as a whisper, at odds with his imposing presence.
I could offer platitudes, false reassurances, but these people deserve the truth.
“I don’t know,” I admit, checking Zach’s pupils with my penlight.They’re sluggish to respond, another bad sign.“But I’m doing everything I can, and he’s fighting hard.”
