Chapter 70
Chapter seventy
Izzy
Blinking twice, my vision slowly begins to come into focus just as my hand shoots to the ground beneath me to push myself up. On unsteady feet, I rush to stand, searching around for Maverick.
There.
He’s lying across from me, bloody and unmoving. The men who previously surrounded us are nowhere to be found. Now, other strangers are running toward us.
In a rush, I make it to Maverick's side and fall to the ground beside him, pulling his stiff body onto my lap.
“HELP!” I call out in a hoarse shout, pleading for someone, anyone, to save him. “Please, help!”
Every second passes us, painful and slow, as if time no longer exists.
Holding on to Maverick, I look down at his face and see the fear in his eyes. He’s covered in blood, but somehow, he still manages to force a soft smile as our eyes meet.
This can’t be how his story ends. Panic rises up in my throat in the form of bile, and I push it down along with every ounce of anxiety that’s flooding my system. Maverick needs me to be present and with him; he needs all my emotions and focus on him. He deserves at least that.
“Just hold on, Mav. Help is coming,” I whisper in a rasp, begging for him to be okay, desperately pulling his body closer to me.
A life with him may not be what was written in the stars for me, but I refuse a world where he doesn’t exist. I need him to pull through.
“I love you, Iz. I’ll always love you.” His voice is low and weak, and the tears in his eyes slide down his cheek.
My eyes mirror them. “You can tell me all about how much you love me once you pull through this,” I say, each word trembling as it leaves my lips. “I just need you to pull through, Mav.”
“Pocket,” he murmurs low, barely audible. His hand pats his pocket, and my brain doesn’t register what he’s trying to say.
Mindlessly, without thought, I reach into his pocket and fish for what he’s in search of, pulling out a small black box and a note.
My heart plummets in my chest as I take it in, still unsure of what’s happening.
“For you,” he whispers, gasping for air. “Always… supposed to be… you.”
I go to respond, but my thoughts are interrupted. “We called for help,” a lady shouts as she crouches down beside me. “The ambulance is 3 minutes out. The operator says to apply pressure to the wound.”
Apply pressure. How did I not think of that?
I’m a fucking nurse, for crying out loud.
I know damn well that’s the first thing I should have done.
I’ve trained for this, and I’ve handled wounds countless times during my stint in the emergency room.
How could I lose all sense of knowledge when I need it most? When Maverick needs me most?
The adrenaline pumps through me, pounding in my ears, and I can’t even think straight. Scrambling, I search for the wound, but there’s too much blood to tell where it’s coming from.
“I-I… I don’t—” I sob as my hands roam over Maverick's chest, aimlessly searching for the wound. My eyes shoot up to meet those of the kind stranger.
“Let me help,” the lady beside me says frantically, stilling my hands and giving me a sympathetic look. She’s calmer than I am, and she’s able to find the bullet wound in his chest almost instantly. She presses down firmly, Maverick groaning in pain.
“I’m here, Mav,” I say on a whimper, my voice shaking with each word, leaning down, bringing my forehead to his. “I’m here. I need you to stay with me. I need you to—”
My words are cut short by a gurgling sound from Maverick, and blood begins to trickle from his mouth.
Just then, the wail of sirens in the near distance pierces the air between us, and a slight sense of hope floods me.
He has a chance. They will save him.
I repeat the words over and over in my mind like a mantra. I need to believe them. I need them to be true.
“They’re close,” I whisper, our foreheads still connected. Pulling back, I notice Maverick sucks in a large breath, and I helplessly watch the life drain from his eyes.
“NO!” I shout, my desperate gaze shooting to each of the strangers surrounding us, begging them to change this uncontrollable outcome. It’s inevitable, and I can’t fucking fix it.
Completely out of control.
I’ve always been the person who thrives in situations where I hold control. I am useless right now. There’s nothing I can do to fix this for him. Nothing. No matter how badly I want to, I can’t control this. It’s a hard realization to come to terms with—impossible, even.
“Maverick, you have given me life,” I say through my sobs, still helplessly watching him fade away.
Words—it’s all I can control. “You have shown me that it’s okay to love and be loved—that my past trauma does not determine or define my worth.
You have set me free, Mav.” I bring a trembling hand to his face, remembering every ounce of love I feel for him.
“You saved me. Not just tonight, but since the moment I met you. You saved me time and time again. I’m sorry.
..” My voice cracks, but I push on, determined to give him all of my heart.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you in return.
You deserved so much better.” The sob overtakes me, clinging to Maverick with every ounce of strength that remains. “Please don’t leave me.”
Time comes to a standstill, and the world around me passes by in a blur. The EMTs arrive, wrenching Maverick out of my hands.
The kind stranger from earlier wraps me in her arms, holding me back when I reach for him again.
Medical terms and sounds of machines fill the air, but nothing registers.
I see nothing but Maverick, watching his chest for any movement.
I hear nothing but Maverick, praying to any fucking God that may be listening that he says my name just one more time.
I breathe in nothing.
The world becomes nothing.
Until one word comes through, loud and clear. Deceased.
I’m not sure how much time passes. Frankly, I don’t fucking care—just remain on the ground, rooted in this spot with my tears as they take Maverick away.
This is all my fault.
Maverick used his last breath to save me, and I didn’t even choose him. I chose Jett.
Jett.
The words the man used shortly before taking Maverick’s life come flooding in. It’s a shame that he chose the way he did. What choice did Jett make? What the fuck did he do to cause this?
The confusion morphs into a fiery, hot rage, and I let out a scream that leaves me trembling.
“Miss Landry?” I hear a familiar voice call out from behind me just as a hand is placed on my shoulder.
Out of instinct, I swat it away before turning around to meet the eyes of Detective Blackwell.
He’s the same detective who has been actively working on Via’s case since Liam attacked her.
After all this time. Little does he know…
He asks me questions, none of which I can answer coherently. Everything is a blur, and I feel as if I’m not even here. I know what shock is, and I know that’s what I’m currently experiencing, but I don’t know how to pull myself out of it.
Everything feels off, and my mind is spinning. What a coincidence that he’s also the first detective on this case… So fucking poetic. I’m spaced out, still not comprehending any of his words, but for an added reason—a creeping suspicion that has my stomach twisting with nausea.
I don’t linger on the thought, not when I hear my name being called out from a distance, then yelling. Angry and panicked yelling. Instantly, I snap out of the haze I’ve found myself stuck in.
I feel Jett’s presence before our eyes even have the chance to meet; it fucking enrages me.
Seething and confused, I ignore Detective Blackwell further and take off in a sprint, running toward Jett at the border of the crime scene. He’s yelling at the officers who are keeping him behind the crime scene tape.
Maverick’s face as he pushed me down and gave his life for mine will forever be etched into the forefront of my mind, and at this moment, it’s all I can see.
The love he had for me was unsurpassed. He gave his life to prove it.
And Jett… Somehow, he’s involved in all of this, and I need fucking answers.
Slowing my pace, I walk up to him with a cold, blank expression. While his face morphs into relief when his eyes meet mine.
He doesn’t get to feel relieved.
“JETTSON! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!” I yell the question, my voice strained with every ounce of my pain.
My name forms on his lips, but I silence it with a sharp slap across his face. The sound of the sting rings through the chaos of the noises already in the air.
I chose him. I wanted a life with him. And what does he do? Put us in this situation. Because of whatever choice Jett made, Maverick lost his life to save mine.
FUCK. HIM.