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“This is how it’s done.” He doesn’t spare time explaining to me. And I have to trust him.
What other choice do I have?
He shoves more of the gauze into the hole, then wads up the rest of it and presses it against the wound.
“Hold it here.”
I do as he says and press down with both hands. The oversized brass knuckles still around the fingers of my right hand.
King’s voice sounds from the ground again, and the man reaches across Dom’s body and picks up the phone.
He reads the screen before hanging up the call.
But I don’t care about the phone call.
Because under my palms, Dom’s chest moves.
He’s alive.
New tears stream from my eyes.
I want to fall forward onto Dominic.
I want to hug him as hard as I can.
But I don’t want to hurt him. And I have a job to do.
The man drops the phone back onto the ground. “Was Dom hit anywhere else?”
“H-his back, I think.” I don’t know who this stranger is. And I don’t care that he knows who Dominic is. I just care that he’s helping.
“Keep your hands where they are,” he says, then pulls Dom’s shoulders forward.
I brace Dom’s weight as he leans unconsciously into me, his head hanging down.
The man pulls something out of his pocket and flicks his wrist, flipping open an angry-looking blade.
In seconds, he’s sliced through Dom’s suit coat and shirt so he can find the entry wound on Dom’s back.
Split down the front and back, Dom’s destroyed clothing slides down his arms, pooling around his hands.
I hate that his bare skin is exposed to the snow. I don’t want him to be cold.
The man grabs another packet of gauze, and I can’t see what he’s doing, but I think it’s the same thing he did to his front, something to stop the bleeding.
I look down, and Dom’s slumped body is blocking my view of his chest, but I know what’s there.
Too much blood.
Even if his heart is still beating… he’s lost too much blood.
The man eases Dom back against the car just as the faint sound of sirens filters through the air.
“We took the liberty of calling an ambulance.” His voice is somehow soft and gravelly at the same time.
That tiny, frayed strand of hope twists around itself, making it stronger.
“Thank you.” I hold the stranger’s gaze. “I can never repay you for this.”
