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“He’s alive but he needs to get to a hospital,” I tell him, making sure he’s covered as he makes his way toward the door. Grimm’s here too now, but I quickly realize there isn't anyone left to fall.
Screwy made sure of that.
I race to catch up with Screwy, jumping in the driver’s seat of the cage he piles Squeal into. His hands have taken position over the wound now, he must have lost the cushion somewhere on the way as the blood is seeping through his fingers.
I wonder if that pulse is still beating, the way Squealer’s skin is rapidly turning grey isn’t a good sign and I put all my focus into driving to the closest hospital. It’s only about twenty miles, and I toe it all the way. But the drive seems to go on for hours.
When I finally get there, I skid to a halt behind an ambulance and slide open the door for Screwy, he looks murderous as he pulls his brother back onto his shoulder and I race ahead into the ER reception to get us some help. I don’t give a shit that I’m covered head to foot in blood, and I ignore the shocked shrieks from the people waiting to be seen.
“We need a doctor now,” my fist bangs hard on the reception counter.
“Now!” I yell at the blank-looking receptionist.
Squealer hangs limply over his brother’s shoulder as Screwy steps up behind me, and remembering how quickly Hayley turned cold on me has me taking action. Squealer can’t fucking leave Screwy. I won’t fucking let him.
I rip some junkie off the gurney he’s sitting on, and drag it to Screwy so he can lay Squealer out. The blood looks way worse now that everything’s so clean and bright, and a doctor appears out of nowhere and starts cutting through his shirt.
Screwy goes to follow him but a hand presses against his chest and some five-foot fuck all nurse tells him to stay put. Shaking his head, he presses forward and before he takes the woman off her feet, I somehow I manage to pull him back
He stares at me and growls.
“Screw, you gotta let them work on him,” I explain. There’s no way I can hold him back by myself if he chooses to flip.
“Blood,” he forces the word out of his mouth, his eyes wild and voice so deep it vibrates through my chest.
“Yeah, there’s a lot of blood, but the doctors are gonna fix him,” I assure him, though the state he looked when they wheeled him away and the fact they were pumping his chest, has me struggling to believe my promise.
I sit with Screwy in the family room, the silence tense and the minutes passing slowly without any word from the doctors. Screwy is about to lose his shit. I can sense it, and I have no idea how to make him calm down.
The brothers start to come and go in small groups, all of them silent and somber and not knowing what to say to Screwy.
We may have taken down Ivan’s men back at the farmhouse but we got nothing to celebrate and we can be sure of one thing now… This shit is way bigger than a fuckin’ cookhouse and a vendetta against Rogue.
Whoever this slippery fucker Ivan is, he’s managed to crawl in right under our noses and if it hadn’t had been for Rogue, we’d still be clueless to his operation.
Eventually, a doc steps into the room and the look on his face says just about everything.
“I take it you’re the next of kin?” He looks at Screwy. A nod from Screw has the doc sitting down beside him, and the sigh he releases before he speaks makes my heart drop to my stomach.
“It was a straight through, but he lost too much blood.” I watch Screwy turn white and his eyes flicker with flames.
His chest is lifting up and down at such a rapid pace, that I know things are gonna start flying soon.
“We repaired the damage it caused and stitched him back up, and he’s in the ICU. I wish I could make you some guarantees but…” I breathe a sigh of relief when I hear there's hope, but Screwy isn’t letting up.
“Can we see him?” I ask, knowing it’s what Screwy needs.
“Yes, of course, one at a time, and the police are going to want to speak to you.” He looks at me suspiciously, and I can understand why considering the state of us and the nature of Squeal’s injury. The cops ain’t something we have to concern ourselves with, especially since we’re on our own turf.
Screw disappears with the doc, and I slip back into the plastic chair and scrub my bloody hand over my face. Squeal is alive… for now… And we have that to be thankful for.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Maddy’s sweet voice has me looking up from the floor, and she stands in the door frame looking beautiful as always.
“How you get here?” The last thing I want is her traveling alone while all this shit’s going down. and when she steps closer I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her onto my lap.
“I came with Grimm, he insisted Rogue get her head checked out,” she explains, and we both look at each other and smirk. “You know what I mean.”
“Any news on Squealer?” Her fingers slip through mine, gripping me tight despite the mess of them. She shouldn’t be tainted with this shit, and times like these I feel like a real selfish bastard for dragging her into this life.
