Chief can handle him later. I don’t have time to worry about him shooting Hugh. Springing into action, I reach up, slicing the zip ties off her wrists and her feet with my utility knife.
“Where's the ambulance?” I call out to everyone else who just walked in.
“On the way. It struggled to get down the road.” I don't really give a shit why; all I care about is the fact it's not fucking here.
Scooping her into my arms, I rush out to my cruiser. “Then it sounds like we need to go meet them. Because I’m not fucking waiting.”
I gently lay her in the back before blowing past every other cruiser, not waiting for anyone else to join me.
I will not let my goddess die on my watch. I promised to keep her safe.
My eyes open to darkness. The pain in my head is like a stabbing sensation every time I move or look in any direction.
Hugh.
Memories trickle in slowly… Letting Athena out… My father's voice.
I try to move a little bit to find something, anything to defend myself. But the small movement sends a familiar pain down my arm.
“Please stay with me, Goddess. I can't survive without you.”
Wyatt?
Suddenly the car stops, and lights as bright as the sun pierce my eye. It feels like it’s bulging out of the socket. The door by my head opens, and I'm in Wyatt's arms.
He gently kisses my forehead, and I manage to get my eye that isn’t swollen open.
“Off-i-cer,” I mutter slowly.
“Goddess? You’re awake?”
My favorite lopsided grin appears.
“I thought I was going to lose you.” His lips press to mine, but when I try to kiss him back, the pain stops me.
“Hugh?” I ask.
“Dead.”
With the words I’ve waited years to hear, I'm pulled from his arms and placed on a stretcher in an ambulance. The EMTs start moving around me, poking, prodding, and pushing Wyatt away. My eyes and limbs feel heavy again, but I try to reach out for Wyatt. I need him.
“What's happening? What’s wrong with her? She was just awake and talking!” Wyatt's panicked voice rings out louder than everything else around me.
When I try to answer him, I find my voice doesn't exist. Everything is getting blurry. Panic starts to rise, but my mind feels heavy and foggy.
What is happening to me?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It's the only sentiment running through my mind as anger runs through my body, making me feel restless.
“Sweetheart! Is she okay? What is going on?” Mom runs up to me, hugging me tight.
“I don't fucking know. No one has any answers. She was awake and talking when I got her to the ambulance, but then her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp again. Then, they pushed me out of the ambulance and took off.”
Pops stands at the back of the waiting room by the door. He won't make eye contact with me, no matter how long I stare in his direction.
“He feels responsible,” Mom whispers.
