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Because she wasn’t so far gone as to not notice that while his words might be confident, his tone was filled with worry. Worry she felt too. Worry that was sitting heavy in the pit of her stomach, smothering her as it compressed her lungs, threatened to slice through her heart, coiled like a strike ready to strike, shooting venom into her soul.
Because the longer that line stayed flat…
“I killed him,” she whispered as they got the paddles out, cleared the space around the bed, and tried to get his heart to start beating again, tried to get his pulse going.
Because as surely as she’d stuck the blade in, she’d causedthis. Her past. Her mother.Her.
Lex’s arms tightened, but he didn’t argue with her further.
And he didn’t reiterate that Connor was going to be okay.
Because the team was working—clearing the space again, pressing the paddles to Connor’s chest a second time, shocking his heart at a higher voltage.
But…the beep stayed steady.
“Still no pulse,” someone said. “Asystole.”
“Charge to one-eighty.”
Another shock.
Still a steady beep.
John stopped, hung his head, and everyone in the room went still. Went still and stopped working and—
“No!” she snapped, shoving against Lex’s hold, breaking it, and lurching to the bedside. She gripped John’s lab coat, shook him roughly, his head bobbling even though he was a good foot and fifty pounds heavier than her. “You don’t get to fucking stop.”
“Rave—”
She released him, snatched up the paddles. “Charge to two hundred.Now!” she snapped when no one moved.
Then someone did. “Charged to two hundred.”
“Clear!” She pressed the paddles to his chest. “Go.”
His body jerked as the charge was sent through the paddles. She lifted them, paused, wanting to rip out her own heart that was jumping in her chest, to slam it into his. Anything that might work.Anything.
Beep.
A long, steady,flatbeep—
Then it wasn’t flat, wasn’t steady. It wasthere.Thready and a little erratic. But there was a pulse and—
She was shoved back, and Lex wove that arm around her middle again, slammed her against his chest, his grip tight enough she knew she wouldn’t escape again, that his big body wouldn’t release her, not without some sort of herculean effort.
But she wasn’t trying to escape, wasn’t trying to get free.
Not when her gaze was glued to that monitor.
Steady again, only it was a steadybeep-beep, beep-beep. The right kind of steady. The type of steady that had her panic abating, her lungs inflating and deflating as normal.
Someone skidded in from around the corner, their shoes squeaking on the tile floor. “OR 1 is open,” he said. “If we’re going to go, we’ve got to do it now.”
“Pump fluids,” John snapped. “Get that fucking bag hung.” A beat. “And let’s get our asses into OR 1.”
There was another flurry of movement.
Then the brakes were unlocked, and they were wheeling him out of the room.
