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That’s exactly what I do.

Then I thrash, kicking my arms and legs in every direction as I blindly flail for her. Suddenly, my ankle hits something soft.

I dive, shoving myself through the coppery hell and blindly reaching forward.

My hand touches fabric and I grab the hood of her sweatshirt in my fist. I kick with everything I have left, screaming bubbles of agony into the blood as I drag us to the surface.

I yank her to the side of the vat, using whatever strength I can muster to shove her up and drape her over the edge of the rim before I drag myself out. We both go tumbling over the side to the cement floor below, but I wrap her in my arms, taking the brunt of the hit myself.

Instantly, I’m turning her over onto her front and pounding on her back. Blood pours from her mouth as she chokes and gurgles, vomiting up blood and sick.

But her airway's clear.

My gaze hardens on the hook through her shoulder.

I’m so fucking sorry.

Bella is limp and unresponsive. But even so, when I grab the hook, even as delicately as I can, a broken sound of pain breaks free from her throat.

But then I see where the hook is clipped to the chain. I fumble the retaining pin free and wrench the chain away, leaving the steel hook buried through her shoulder.

Ripping mine out was a necessity. But I’m not going to risk her hemorrhaging out by removing hers.

Bella is limp in my arms as I lift her and start to stumble toward a doorway. I don’t really have a plan, but I know that we’re running out of fucking time.

The toxin is catching up with me.

I’m losing feeling in my extremities.

If I can get us out of here, we can find a phone and call for help. Fuck, maybe we can get the antidote that Doug Williams was telling me about.

My leg gives out just before we get to the door. My knee hits the ground but I grit my teeth, the blood all over us making it hard to hold onto her. But I clutch her to my body, forcing my foot down and standing up before I slam the door open with my good shoulder.

It’s dark as I stumble out of the building, barely conscious.

Hardly walking anymore.

And then I’m not walking at all.

Both knees hit the ground hard, but all I give a fuck about is the woman in my arms.

She’s quickly losing her ability to breathe.

Fear stabs into me when tight, choking noises start to hitch from her throat.

“No no no!” I hiss, setting her on the ground. I catch myself just before I fall onto her, bracing myself with a wet, bloodied hand as I lower my mouth to hers.

Then I start to breathe, forcing the air from my lungs into hers.

“Such a gentleman, Mr. Barone.”

My legs are totally numb, and I can only feel one arm. But I'm able to twist my neck and look up to see Sorel standing over me, shaking his head.

“I got all the way down the block before I thought, you know what? I might not like what you did to my organization in your tireless crusade to get to me. But I do admire your grit.”

He pulls a silver cigarette case from his pocket, opens it, and slips one between his thin lips before he lights it.

Then he kicks me in the face.