Chapter 64 Scarlett
SCARLETT
Jace’s lifeless body lay beneath me, his blood—sticky, warm, and smelling of iron—drenched around my trembling hands. I fought back the sobs that racked my body because each one shook my shoulders, and I couldn’t risk moving my hands. Not even an inch.
I won’t let him die.
Please, please, please let help get here before it’s too late. His skin looks so white already.
It felt like an eternity before the paramedics finally arrived, an eternity measured in heartbeats. Mine racing while his grew fainter. An EMT took my place, securing his jugular and performing critical life-saving measures, and then loaded him onto a stretcher.
Around us, a larger crowd had gathered. People crying, sobbing really.
It wasn’t every day you witnessed an attempted murder in your workplace, but all I could focus on was Jace’s ghost-like face, the frightening stillness of his powerful body.
I closed my eyes and begged the universe, God, or anyone who might be listening to not take him from me.
Something he had said … how he wasn’t the one driving … it should have mattered, but I realized in that moment that I would have looked past any wrong he had ever done. I would still choose to be with him. I would surrender everything to him forever if he just didn’t leave me.
“The helicopter landed!” someone called out, voice cutting through the chaos.
“I want to go with him,” I said, rising on unsteady legs, my shirt and neck and hands stained with sticky blood.
“You can’t,” the paramedic replied.
“Where are you taking him?” I managed.
“We’re airlifting him to Mercy Harbor.”
Mercy Harbor. A level-one trauma center. The hospital where Blake, an emergency room doctor, worked.
Thank God for small mercies.
Then, I watched with horror, as the paramedics ran—actually ran—with Jace’s lifeless body, rushing toward his only hope of survival.
Move, Scarlett. Move.
I snatched up my fallen phone with blood-slicked fingers and began running down the hall, abandoning my remaining heel as I sprinted toward the stairs toward the parking lot, grateful I’d driven here today rather than taken public transportation like I normally did to avoid traffic.
If I hadn’t had to stop at the police station this morning, I wouldn’t have my car here.
With trembling fingers, I dialed the number Tessa had given me.
“Scarlett?” Blake answered on the first ring, his voice cautious.
“I—” I choked over my tears, chiding myself for wasting precious seconds.
“Scarlett, what’s wrong?” Alarm had replaced caution.
“Are you at the hospital?” I managed.
“I just arrived. Why?”
“It’s Jace,” I cried, the words finally breaking free. “A medical helicopter is taking him to Mercy Harbor right now. His jugular’s been cut. Please, Blake—please save him.”