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Fuck, this can’t be happening. It can’t be real.
“It’s all right,” Quinn panted as he placed his bloody hand over mine. “Val… got him.”
“You’re losing so much blood,” I whimpered, my vision blurring.
“It’s okay...been shot…before…when I was a cop. I’m tougher than I…look.”
“You look pretty fucking tough,” I replied without thinking.
Quinn snorted, then grimaced. “Don’t make…me…laugh, Iain. Hurts.”
“How are you so calm right now?”
“Better… calm… than dead.”
And then it was chaos again—police cars flooded the parking lot, cops yelled at Valen to show his hands.
My ears started to ring, and my vision blurred.
Suddenly, Regan was there, crouched down in front of me, but I couldn’t understand anything she was saying.
I was yanked up and away from Quinn as paramedics arrived and placed him on a stretcher.
Finally, Dawson was there, too, standing in front of me, pulling me into his arms.
I buried my face in his neck and burst into tears, not caring who saw or how I sounded.
“How did you know?” I sobbed against his chest.
“The SOS, Regan called me. It’s okay; it’s all over, sweetheart. It’s okay,” Dawson reassured me. I was shaking, and so was he. “You’re safe now.”
“Quinn?” I asked as I finally leaned back and looked around.
“Quinn’s on his way to the hospital. He’s going to be okay.”
“Is Frankie…is he…”
“He’s dead,” Dawson murmured. “Now we have to get you to the hospital.”
“No.”
“Yes, you’re in shock. You need to be checked out.”
“But—”
“I’m coming with you. I’m not leaving your side.”
“I was so scared. And I felt helpless. I?—”
Dawson gripped me so tight I’m surprised I didn’t crack a rib. But I needed it; I needed his strength more than ever.
I’m not sure what happened after that.
Everything went dark.
I woke up to fluorescent lights, the sound of machines beeping, and the smell of rubbing alcohol.
Hospitals. I hated them.
