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Then the shadows exploded, filling his mind, infesting it.
And dragging him into unconsciousness.
Thirty-One
Raven
For one moment, after Connor had slumped into unconsciousness, she felt hysteria well up in her belly, threaten to take over, to freeze and slip into uselessness.
Then her training kicked in.
And she went back to snapping orders and focusing on the wound.
She needed to stop the bleeding, and she needed fluids in him, neededbloodin him.
Thankfully, everyone was working around her, a frantic sort of focus that meant shit was getting done without delay.
Not just because Connor was theirs.
But because he was that close to the edge. One delay, one fuck-up, and it would be—
“No,” she whispered, searching the wound, looking for the bleeder. “More gauze.”
Hands moved, gauze was packed in. Blood soaked up.
But then it was soaked again, and it was being swapped out, andshe couldn’t find the source of the bleeding.
And he was going to die because she couldn’t find it.
“Fuck,” she whispered. “Fuck.”
Everyone paused for a moment, and she felt eyes coming to her, worry a heavy presence, but she didn’t look up, just kept working.
Calm.
Patient.
Thorough.
Clamping damaged vessels, packing gauze into others, slowing the bleeding.
But not stopping it.
Notfuckingstopping it.
Blood in his belly, on the gurney, on her hands and clothes and the floor.
And still coming.
Then…
The monitor flatlined, a steady beep that sent razors of ice down her spine.
She kept working, moving faster. Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.
He’d lost too much blood. He’d—
“Raven,” someone whispered.
