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“No, no, no,” Roseline gasped as Callan slumped against her, the bullet meant for her buried deep in his side. Supporting his weight, she lowered him to the cold concrete floor. His breath came in ragged pants, face draining of color.
Abruptly, two more deafening gunshots rang out, making Roseline flinch. She looked up to see both henchmen sprawled on the floor, dark pools spreading beneath them. Antonio Ricci stood over their bodies, clutching Marcus’s gun, his hands slick with blood.
In the corner, Marcus was beginning to stir back to consciousness, and Ricci turned to tie him up before he fully regained consciousness.
Pressed against the crates for cover, Roseline tore strips of fabric from her shirt to try to stem the blood flow. But crimson continued to spill between her fingers at an alarming rate.
“You’re… you’re going to be okay. Just stay with me,” Roseline choked out, refusing to accept what felt inevitable. Callan’s eyes found hers, full of sorrow and tenderness. His lips moved weakly, but she couldn’t make out what he was trying to say.
But they ran out of time.
Roseline pressed her forehead against Callan’s, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Please hold on, my love. I can’t do this without you.” His eyes fluttered closed, face slacking further. Roseline shook him. “Callan, look at me!”
With obvious effort, his long lashes lifted halfway, sky blue irises cloudy and unfocused. His lips moved again, but Roseline only made out two slurred words this time before his eyes slid shut once more.
“Love… you…”
Then he went still in her arms.
Somewhere far away, past the roaring in her ears, Roseline became aware of approaching sirens slicing through the night. But she could not tear her gaze from Callan’s face, willing him to open his eyes again, to look at her with the warmth that made her feel truly seen.
This man had shown her tenderness when she expected cruelty, passion where she anticipated indifference. He had proven that two broken souls could mend together, healing old wounds. Roseline clung to the solid weight of him now, willing her own life force into his failing body.
Around her, the outside world erupted into motion as the cavalry arrived at last. Roseline barely noticed the flurry of police storming in, securing Marcus and his goons, freeing Ricci, already combing for evidence. She did not resist as someone lifted Callan from her trembling arms, applying frantic pressure to his still-bleeding wound before rushing him away on a stretcher.
Somewhere in Roseline’s periphery, she noticed Commander Beckner briefing first responders, guiding them through this crime scene she had led them to with her covert broadcasted evidence.
But Roseline could not tear her eyes from that single dark stain on the concrete before her, where Callan’s blood had spilled so needlessly. Her love’s whispered last words echoed through her mind while everything else faded to muted background noise.
She almost didn’t notice as someone draped a blanket around her shoulders, guiding her up from the frigid basement floor. As she stumbled up the concrete steps almost involuntarily, Roseline kept glancing back, half-expecting Callan to appear behind her somehow, flashing that charismatic grin she adored.
But the shadowy doorway remained empty. Once outside, Roseline blinked against the whirl of flashing lights cutting through the darkness—ambulances, police cruisers, unmarked vehicles carrying federal agents. She scanned every new face urgently as they loaded Marcus into custody and took care of his two dead accomplices.
“Roseline!”
She turned at the sound of her name to see Brandon jogging over, his Nordic features creased with worry.
“Have you seen Callan?” Brandon asked. “The EMTs took him away in the first ambulance, but I don’t know which hospital. Is he…” Brandon trailed off, unable to voice the dire possibilities swirling in both their minds.
Roseline’s throat constricted too tightly to form words. She could only shake her head, tears welling again.
Brandon enveloped her in a strong embrace, leading her toward a patrol car. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here. Beckner’s got an APB out on which hospital Callan was taken to. We’ll find him.”
Though Brandon’s commanding presence was meant to be reassuring, Roseline found herself almost recoiling from human contact after the trauma of this night. The only one’s touch she craved was Callan’s gentle caress.
Roseline allowed Brandon to steer her into the squad car’s passenger seat, his bulk settling beside her. But her mind remained back in that chilly basement—eyes locked with Callan’s, the deafening crack of the gun, his limp weight sagging against her as crimson seeped between her fingers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Roseline sat hunched in the hard plastic chair, elbows resting on her knees, fingers woven together so tightly her knuckles were white. The sterile waiting room was empty except for her and Brandon, who sat beside her. The air smelled strongly of harsh disinfectants that did nothing to cover the faint metallic scent of blood lingering on Roseline’s clothes.
Callan’s blood.
Roseline shuddered as the horrific images from just hours earlier flashed through her mind in a torturous loop.
Callan throwing himself in front of her as the bullet exploded from the assassin’s gun. The dark red stain blooming across his blue shirt. The soft groan that escaped his lips as he collapsed against her. She had clutched him then, desperate to stop the terrifying flow of blood that covered her hands in sticky warmth. His whispered “I love you” echoed over and over in her mind but had barely registered in the chaos of that awful moment.
Now, waiting helplessly for some news—any news—about Callan’s condition, that anguished declaration echoed louder and louder in Roseline’s mind, intertwined with her fervent prayers that this valiant, compassionate man would somehow survive. She couldn’t imagine waking up tomorrow in a world without Callan’s steadfast presence, his warm sapphire eyes that always managed to see straight into her soul, and his tender touch that made her feel cherished. The thought of losing all that threatened to cleave her heart in two.
