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“I don’t know that I still can, but my guts tell me I need to because I don’t know what else to do,” I said through my teeth as I fought the agony that was pounding through my shoulder. What I didn’t say was that I knew I was fucked. Without a surgeon or someone like me, I was a dead man. Already, I was light-headed.
“Fuck,” muttered Ghost as he ran a hand over his face. He disappeared and Phoenix and I looked at each other.
Never had I wished for the ability to heal my own shit more than I did at that moment. To at least be able to know the extent of the damage. Anything. Then again, it didn’t take a genius to know that I had an arterial bleed. The blood was bright red and spurting when Phoenix took pressure off. Since it was in my shoulder, there was no way to tourniquet it.
Maybe she was married and her husband was a surgeon? There was no way I’d be that lucky. Especially unless he had shit in the house to operate. Jesus, I was grasping at straws, because I didn’t see a good way out of this.
Fucked. That’s what I was.
Ghost reappeared when we heard the front door fly open. I was pretty sure he’d gone to lurk behind Korrie to make sure we were safe and she wouldn’t run off to do anything stupid.
Looking back, I realized we’d been cocky. I should’ve had him check the Damon residence for other inhabitants earlier before we went in. All of this could’ve been prevented if we’d done that instead of working on the assumption Lester would be alone. That was sloppy of us.
When I met Ghost’s gaze, he looked shaken. He was one of the sharpest and mentally focused guys I knew. Definitely didn’t rattle easy. Well, unless we were flying. If he was upset, there was a good damn reason.
“What the fuck happened?” I demanded in a voice that was much weaker than I’d have liked.
Before he could answer, movement in the doorway caught my attention. What I saw had me blinking my eyes, trying to clear them. I had to be delusional—lost too much blood. Except it didn’t change what I was seeing.
“No,” I whispered.
Worry in her eyes, Korrie guided the young boy over to us. His gaze darted to Korrie for guidance as he grabbed her hand. She swallowed hard and stepped up next to us.
Please tell me this isn’t her child. Please. Fuck no.
“Trace,” she said as she rested a hand on the top of his shaggy head. She wet her lips. “Remember what you did before you got sick? When I cut my finger?”
“No!” I shouted, jolting to a sitting position. Big mistake, because Phoenix lost pressure, blood sprayed across the pristine comforter, and everyone shouted at once.
“Lay down!” Ghost said.
“Goddamn it!” Phoenix growled.
“Jude!” Korrie gasped.
Phoenix shoved me back to the bed. The boy simply stared at me. Most kids would be freaking out at what he’d seen. Except he simply cocked his head to study me with dark probing eyes before he took a step my direction. “No!” I gasped again. “No way. Don’t you let him, Korrie,” I implored.
Without her confirming what I was thinking, I knew. Knew this was my son I was looking at as sure as I knew my own fucking name. With that knowledge, I knew what he’d done to his mother’s finger.
Knew what it must’ve taken out of him.
Knew what this would do to him.
Knew I couldn’t let him.
The boy’s dark brown eyes narrowed, then appeared sad. “You’re gonna die,” he said matter-of-factly.
No, no, no, no, no, no. Please God, no.
A sob slipped from my tingling lips. I’d never wanted to pass that on to a child.
Before I could stop him, he tried to move my shirt. Ghost jumped up and pulled out his knife. The boy jumped back with frightened wide eyes. Ghost sliced through the fabric of my shirt to where Phoenix held the now blood-soaked compress to my shoulder.
“Sorry,” Ghost mumbled to the kid as he stepped away.
The boy moved forward again. His small hand reached out as I cried, “No. Please don’t let him! God, please don’t let him.”
No one fucking listened.
