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Her hand lands on my shoulder, "Don't Jameson, please just stop!"
"No, Hanna. He'll never stop. He'll never stop."
"This isn't you!" She shouts, "Please, Jameson."
Her pleading loosens my grip on Ryan's neck, leaving him unconscious as I stand over his lifeless body.
Staring. Wishing. Crying.
A blur of blue lights and medical personnel inhabit the next couple of hours. Cops lurk around asking me questions, but all I want to do is rip the fucking tiny memo pad from their hands. Hanna is still shaken up, speaking quietly with Blakely in this ICU waiting room. We've been having issues over the past few months, and she's still here holding my hand. She's loyal, and after a lifetime of uncertainty with my father, it's nice to have someone here in my corner, never giving up on me.
She deserves better.
The doctor steps into the room, and I prepare myself for the worst possible scenario. If he's gone, it will break me. It will break us all.
I stand, practically floating over to the double doors where the doctor fills me in, a huge weight lifting off my chest.
Hanna and Blakely walk back into the waiting room, scurrying over to see what is going on.
"He's alive." I sigh, those two words relieving both of them," He's awake. We can go back one at a time."
Hanna hugs me and offers me a soft kiss on the cheek, her supportive demeanor never wavering.
I look to Blakely. I want to check on him, but I know that he's been pining over her for a year, so since she's here, she should go.
Her voice is eerily calm, "Jameson, you should go. If he wants to see me, I'll still be here."
I know good and well he will be begging for her the second I walk through the door, but I do as she says and start making my way through the glass maze of the ICU.
When my eyes land on my brother, I can feel a pool of comfort surrounding me.
"Thank God," I make my way to the hospital bed, basically running. I squeeze him too tight, causing a nasty cough to escape. "Shit, I'm sorry."
"The cops came in here before they would let anyone back. Why were you at the docks?" His voice is rigid.
"I followed you. I felt like something was wrong. Why we're you at the docks?"
"We set Ryan up. We had been following him for months. We knew he was involved in a drug ring. The bust didn't go as planned, so I was going to the docks to sulk. I thought for sure we had him. He must've followed me there."
I feel all the color draining from my face, falling to the chair next to the bed, "Judson. Where was the bust?"
"It's not important," He sighs, "He must've caught on because he wasn't there. The guy they arrested had no idea he was delivering drugs. He didn't even know who Ryan was."
"Where was it, Judson? The drop?" I demand, my heart rate picking up as things fall into place.
"An abandoned warehouse outside the city about twenty miles. Jameson, why? What do you know?"
My face turns pale, "Judson, I was supposed to make that drop. He knew your plan, and he was sending me."
His face turns to stone, and the anger behind his eyes could shoot daggers into mine, "Why the fuck were you working for him!" He growls. His voice is so hoarse his attempted shout is muffled.
"I didn't have a choice. He already hurt Blakely."
He looks away. Pissed? Ashamed? I don't know.
"What's wrong? You didn't think I knew about that? He was coming for Hanna, for you. I had to do it."
"You should've come to me," He snaps.
