Page 96 of Savagely Scarred

The paramedics starts rattling off information and vital signs. “Twenty-nine year old female, stab wound upper abdomen. Three units given enroute. Patient is pregnant. Unsure of gestation…”

A dull roar fills my ears that muffles everything else around me. We approach a set of double doors labeled ‘Operating Room.’ I faintly hear one of the nurses tell me to go back to the emergency room to get my leg checked out.

“Sir, you can’t come back here,” another says.

My feet falter and her hand is ripped from mine as they push her through the entrance. I stand there and watch them take her away. The doors and my adrenaline crash at the same time, the last thirty minutes hitting me like a truck and my knees slam into the tile.

The inhuman sound that leaves my chest echoes down the hall.

Silence can be deafening when there’s nothing to drown out your thoughts.

The clock quietly ticks on the wall behind me. Its steady rhythm taunts me like a countdown to the unknown.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

I haven’t taken my eyes off the doors since they brought me into this empty waiting room. I’ve kicked down plenty of doors, but these are the only ones I can’t force open. All I can do is stare at them in silence, pleading for them to open. Hours ago, I was begging her to stay with me. Now, all I can do is wait for someone to tell me if she did.

She’s pregnant.

My coffee cup shakes in my hand, threatening to spill its contents. I balance it on my thigh for support. My pant leg is ripped from where they cut a hole to get access to my wound. I refused to change clothes. Thankfully, the laceration wasn’t deep and didn’t go through too much muscle. They stitched me up and left me here.

My heart rate picks up when the door finally swings open, and I quickly stand. But then my stomach plummets when Dorian and Lorenzo stride in wearing solemn expressions.

Blood stains Dorian’s skin from his fingertips to his elbows and across his bare torso. Between the two of us, we look like we walked off a horror movie set. Lorenzo grips my shoulder when they stop in front of me.

“Anything?” He raises a brow.

I shake my head in reply.

Commander Roberts’ call was still connected when my car got hit. He immediately called Lorenzo and they used his tracking app to find us. Thank God Liv’s phone was still in her pocket since mine got destroyed in the wreckage.

The doors open again, and Ava rushes in carrying a black duffle bag, her wild black curls matching the look on her face. Her steps slow to stand in front of me.

“Did you know?” I murmur.

“No,” she says softly, “she didn’t tell me.”

I chew my bottom lip and stare at the floor. Knowing she was pregnant wouldn’t have changed the outcome. I probably would have restricted her even more, and she would have resented me for it. And he would have come for her either way.

“I brought you guys a change of clothes.” Ava holds out the bag to Dorian, and he takes it from her.

“Thank you, Ava.”

Dorian and I leave her with Lorenzo and go into the bathroom in the corner of the room. My hands tremble as I undo my zipper. While I struggle to remove my pants, I watch him turn on the sink faucet and scrub at his arms. His movements get more frantic and forceful and his face grows harder. I stare at the red tinted water while it swirls down the drain.

There was so much blood.

Once we finish cleaning up and change into my black sweatpants and tees that Ava packed, he finally speaks.

“Do you think—,”

“I don’t know.” I glance at him behind me in the mirror.

For the next two hours we moved restlessly around the room. Changing chairs, pacing, and staring out the window while the rain continued to fall. At some point, exhaustion took over and we settled back onto the couches.