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“I’ll get blankets,” Kirsty shouted as she ran after Caroline.

Alastair panted through shallow, painful breaths as he looked up to find Ryan. “She.” Gasp. “Hit.” Gasp. “Her.” Gasp. “Head.”

“We’re on it.” Ryan pulled at Alastair’s shirt. “Looks like broken ribs. Probable punctured lung. He’s turning blue.”

“Rainne.” Pain made Alastair’s eyes close. His lungs flexed and he coughed, making it worse. His vision blurred.

Someone else came to his side. Alastair panted as he turned his head. Flynn. When did Flynn get here?

“I’ve got a comm line to Callum,” Flynn told Ryan. “Callum was a medic in the SAS. He’s digging a bullet out of some guy’s leg right now. He can tell me what to do.” He touched his ear. “Callum, we’ve got a problem here. Broken rib. Punctured lung, we think. We’re not sure.”

Alastair fought the urge to cough. Panic bit at him. He couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t enough air. Damn it, he was going to suffocate when he hadn’t sorted things with Rainbow.

He wrapped his fingers around Ryan’s arm, uncaring that his grip was tight.

“Rainne?”

“Don’t worry about her,” Ryan said.

“No.” Alastair coughed hard, but never let go of Ryan. “Rainne?”

“We’ve got her,” Margaret Campbell said from behind Ryan. “We’re warming her up. We think she’s still unconscious because she got too cold. Don’t worry about her. She’s going to be fine.”

Alastair relaxed slightly, and then lost consciousness for a few seconds as agony spiked through him.

“Blue around the mouth,” Flynn was saying when Alastair was able to focus again. Flynn was looking at his wife. “I need a scalpel and a sanitised tube.”

“I heard,” Caroline said as she appeared in Alastair’s view. “I’ll get you something.”

“What?” Alastair said. It hurt to talk. Hurt to breathe. He was drowning. It felt like someone was sitting on his chest and every short breath was pure agony.

“You’re going to be okay,” Flynn told him. “You’ll be breathing fine in a minute. Try not to panic.”

Aye, that was exactly what he’d do. Right after he punched Flynn for the stupid advice. His chest spasmed as the urge to cough hit him and he fought it.

“What are you going to do?” Abby sounded shaken.

“I need to insert a tube into his chest cavity, near his ribs. It will let the air out and take the pressure off his lung. Right now the air he’s sucking in is seeping out into his chest cavity and it has nowhere to go. The more air in the cavity, the less can get into the lung. That’s why he’s going blue, baby—he isn’t getting enough air. We need to relieve the pressure.” Alastair stared at Flynn as he smiled at his wife. “Callum is going to talk me through it. But it seems simple enough. It’s good practice for the future.”

“Flynn.” Abby rested her forehead against his for a second. “You’re going to be a vet.”

“Horses, people, same difference,” Flynn said.

“Not.” Gasp. “Reassuring.” The words sent Alastair into another hacking cough.

“Stop talking,” Flynn ordered. “Nothing you say is going to be helpful anyway.”

Alastair made a mental note to hurt Flynn Boyle once this was over. The ex-football player had it coming.

“Rainne is doing great,” Joe said as he crouched beside Alastair. “The head injury was small. Once she warms up, she’ll wake up.”

He sounded sure. Alastair wanted to believe him. Rainne had to be okay.

“Here.” Caroline rushed back into the hallway. She thrust a thick plastic drinking straw and a paring knife at Flynn. “That’s the best I can do.”

Flynn told Callum what they had then nodded to Caroline. “It’s good. I need antiseptic wipes and bandages.” He looked at Alastair. “I’m not going to mess with you. This will hurt. You can’t move. I’m going to get Ryan and Joe to hold you down. Don’t panic, okay? I can’t risk you jerking when I use the knife and causing more damage.”

“Do.” Gasp. “It.”

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