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“Fuckin’ talk to me. I’m in command. Call Doc Gibbons if you need to, but look to me for the care of my brothers,” Diesel growled.
The doctor looked around and swallowed hard.
“Rooster needs an amputation on his left lower leg below the knee. We can’t save the limb; it’s been crushed. The bones are mere splinters. If we’re to save his life, we must operate now,” the doctor said.
Diesel’s shoulders sagged.
“If you don’t amputate?” Diesel asked. Fuck this; he didn’t want to make this decision.
“Your friend will die in excruciating pain, to be blunt. The limb will grow dead; sepsis will kick in and rot the leg before infecting your friend’s bloodstream and killing him slowly,” the doctor replied.
“Give me the paperwork,” he stated into the deathly silence.
“Can you sign?”
“Hand me the fuckin’ paperwork!” Diesel thundered.
The doctor held the clipboard out, and Diesel signed, praying Rooster would forgive him.
“We’ll keep you updated,” the doctor responded and hurried away.
“Diesel,” Drake said, walking forward and putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t, Drake. Someone needs to go and collect Roo’s boys,” Diesel stated.
“That’s not a great idea,” Phoe spoke.
Diesel spun and stared at her.
“Rooster’s going to wake up with half a leg. What’s his first thought gonna be? Come on, you know, Roo,” Diesel snapped.
“He’ll want to put a bullet in his head,” Phoe whispered as tears filled her eyes.
“Yeah. And if his sons are surrounding him, he can’t. I ain’t losing a brother. Someone needs to fetch his boys and get them here so I can fuckin’ explain that their father is about to lose half his leg.” Diesel growled.
“We’ll go. Where are they?” Chatter and Levi asked.
“At the Unwanted Bastards’ compound. Tati and Big Al were picking them up and keeping them safe. Get me those kids or Rooster will slit his wrists the moment he wakes up. And brothers… not a mention of what’s happened. Tell them you’re meeting me at the hospital,” Diesel warned. His gut was twisting itself into knots at the thought of telling his nephews their father was seriously injured. Diesel turned and stared out the window, his arm lifting to hug Phoe as she burrowed into his side.
Chapter Nine.
Klutz
“Parents of Micah Michaelson?” a lady in scrubs asked, entering the lobby. Levi and Chatter had left five minutes ago to fetch Kit, Finn, and Brax, Rooster’s sons. Everyone stared at the surgeon as Drake and Phoe stepped up.
“Yes,” Phoe answered with a tremor in her voice.
“Can we chat somewhere private?” the woman sought.
“No, this is Micah’s family. Talk in front of them,” Phoe replied. Her hand slid out to catch Drake’s, and Klutz guessed she knew this would be bad. Calamity hadn’t left their side, and he stepped forward with them.
“I’m sorry, Mrs Michaelson, Micah’s liver is too badly damaged to save. He needs an urgent transplant. I know several men here have given blood tests. There are two matches, Drake and Jacon Edwards.”
Klutz’s gut sank at the thought of his brother injured and dying. There was only one answer to this. His gaze caught Calamity’s expression, and Klutz yearned to wipe the pain written across it away.
“Take mine,” Drake responded instantly.
“No, you’ll have mine. Drake, no!” Klutz said, holding his hand up. “Hellfire is in disarray. Chance is down. If Clio survives this unscathed, Chance will not be fit for shit while the baby is inNICU. Rooster is down, and half of them are walking injured. Hellfire needs a Michaelson at the helm.
