Carnell had outsmarted him. Again.
That had been a high-powered round from at least two hundred feet, and, based on the size of the hole, it had been intended to end Jay in the blink of an eye.
The death of his beloved mate will—no,would—push Gideon over the edge.
The surge of rage is so intense he gives in to the urge to roar and shake the steering wheel. It creaks warningly under his tight grip, and the Buick swerves up and over the curb, causing pedestrians to run in all directions.
Gideon wants his father’s heart in his hand, wants to watch him scream in pain—wants it so badly his fangs drop and his vision goes red.
What Carnell hasn’t anticipated is that if Jay dies, then Gideon won’t stop until Carnell is dead, even if it means mutual destruction.
He’s seconds away from turning the car toward Island Estates, teetering on the precipice when the ambulance pulls into the ER Trauma arrivals.
He can’t follow into the garage, so he forces the Buick up and over the curb, parking on a grassy knoll, parallel to the driveway.
A security guard is running toward him when he pushes the Buick’s door wide.
“Sir! You can’t park—” the guard starts, but just hearing the words has Gideon rounding on the man with a snarl.
“Uhh—holy shit—fuck!”
He throws the keys at him and ignores the shouts as he stalks toward the ambulance in the unloading bay. He’s let Jay out of his sight for ten minutes too long already.
When he arrives, they’ve already wheeled Jay in through the sliding glass doors, and there’s not a trace of him except the smoky scent of pain and—no.
He wants to barrel into the ER and shout for someone to help him, to take him to his mate right the fuck now, but he spots thethird EMT in the back of the ambulance, cleaning blood—Jay’s blood—off the floor.
“Tell me,” he growls.
“Alpha, sir…”
“Fuck, please,” he begs. “Did he at least get here alive?”
The EMT nods. “He did, but he coded twice. Em and Lucy are the best, though. They got him back. He’s here now. They’ll have him in surgery already.”
Gideon crouches right there, relishing the pain in his chest. It must only be a fraction of what Jay is going through right now, and it tells Gideon that somehow, some way, he’s alivesomewhere.
The young man crouches beside him, not touching but offering support. “You saved him. The CPR means he’s still here. You did the best you could.”
Saved him?No. He’s the reason Jay is in Carnell’s way in the first place. But Gideon’s done thinking about that shit right now. When Jay is back where he can kiss and yell at him for stupid shit, he’s going to have a nice long cry. Until then, he’s going to keep himself warm by thinking of all the ways Carnell is going to pay.
“Come on, let’s find you a shirt and you can wash up. You’re scaring the patients. You have a pack you want to call?”
He looks down, and there’s blood covering his hands, past his wrists, and all over his bare chest. It’s macabre and a horrific reminder. It’s no wonder the security guard looked freaked out.
“Yeah, they’ll be here soon.” He can’t meet them in the waiting room looking like this. “Yeah, okay.”
“They’re coming? You shouldn’t be alone.”
Gideon nods and follows the EMT through the bay, and there’s a faint scent of smoky pine. It makes Gideon’s stomach roil as he spots small red droplets down the hall and a custodianusing a mundane mop to wipe it up—like it’s not what keeps his beloved mate alive, like every drop isn’t precious.
They turn away from the busy area, where the curtains of a few med-bays are pulled closed. A baby is crying, and someone snoring. It’s not at all busy, given it’s a Were facility, but still, he must look like a madman.
He’s grateful when the EMT shows him into a staff restroom and points to a shower. “I’ll be back with scrubs. Go ahead.”
Gideon strips off his ruined pants and splattered sneakers, which he can’t do anything about. The knee of his jeans is stiff, and the blood has soaked through so much that it has stained his skin.
Turning the water as hot as he can bear, he scrubs and scrubs until the water runs clear down his body, leaving only the water pooled in the bottom of the shower, still pink. His eyes burn, but Gideon hasn’tearnedthe right to cry—not when he’s the reason they’re here.
