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“That’s not what I asked,” I growl, frustration and fear for an unknown reality taking over my control. “Did any of our men touch her?”
“To my knowledge, everyone who has tried failed and lays unconscious, maybe dead.”
I nod, pleased that I won’t have to kill my men tonight. “Stand down. She isn’t a danger to me.”
“But Mayor De—”
“Leave!”
Ethan’s stare drills into me, but I will not budge on this. My resolve is a physical barrier he cannot traverse.
“We’ll fall back, but we won’t leave you unprotected.” He gives the order, and the detail disappears from sight.
While I make a note to have a talk with Ethan for his insubordination, I open the front doors in time to catch her falling body. She is worse off than I imagined. Worse than other times she showed up injured.
“I promised you I’d make it,” she whispers with a smile before passing out in my arms.
My heart thunders and I tap a code on the device around my wrist that sends pulses to the one Tácito wears. I’d had the device made to alert him any time an emergency occurs or we need to communicate silently.
As much as I would like to clean her up before Tácito sees her, I know how futile the effort is. He’s a surgeon, used to blood and exposed internal organs. But neither of us have ever seen her bleeding out from multiple gunshot and stab wounds. From her head to her legs, holes and slices mar her beautiful skin.
What the hell did she get herself into?
Tácito rushes to my side, his eyes widening in alarm. The emotion disappears just as quickly as it appeared.
“Take her to the basement. I’ve restocked it with supplies. I’ll know after examining her if we need additional provisions. You’ll have to assist until Cooper arrives.” Tácito sends a text on his phone as he walks with me toward the elevator.
My men relax and disperse now that I’ve proven she is no danger. They’ll have to check the others for injuries. Until then, Tácito and I will be too busy saving her life. The one person who means more to the both of us than anyone else in the world.
I lay her on the gurney when we arrive downstairs. This isn’t the first time we’ve used this facility. I’ve been on the table before, though she holds the record. But never for injuries this severe.
Tácito examines her body, then rifles through the cabinets for everything he needs. “Shit! We may not have enough blood to transfuse. Can you—”
“I’m on it.” I text Trevor to retrieve this morning’s delivery.
Thanks to Tácito, I’ve learned that hospitals transfuse patients within five days. I have deliveries made every four days. Sloane’s dangerous lifestyle means emergencies crop up, and I refuse to be left holding my dick and a stupid expression on my face as her life bleeds out. Not on my fucking watch.
While I set up the machine, Tácito sets up the area with surgical tools and gauze. By the time he finishes, Cooper arrives with a hard case slung over her shoulder.
She and Tácito go through their pre-operations routine where Tácito instructs Cooper on the procedure. The two medics have worked together long enough for Cooper to anticipate Tácito’s needs, but her fluency in sign language makes her invaluable.
I step back and observe from a distance as Tácito works feverishly to save her life. The constant adrenaline pumping through my veins drives me to walk out, slam my fist in the wall, and return to watch our girl fight for her life. I don’t know why I bother. Instead of extinguishing my rage and uselessness, my second trip to the wall leaves me with broken skin across my knuckles and more anger and frustration than before.
We can’t lose her. Not like this. We’ve yet to tell her our true feelings. Tonight was our chance.
“Sloane.” My voice breaks on her name. “I don’t care what hell you have to walk through to come back to us. Just come back alive.” I bow my head, willing my desperate plea to reach her.
Not God.
Never God.
I don’t pray to that fickle bastard. I’ve learned how futile prayer is years ago. What will get us through this crisis is our will, because Tácito and I will create miracles when her life is on the line. We have no other choice, and neither does she.
As I stand, a helpless witness to the blood-soaked rags piling on the floor, one thought solidifies in my mind.
Tonight marks the end of Sloane’s bullshit. She will survive and she will take her rightful place beside us. Even if I have to drag her, kicking and screaming all the way.
* * *
