Chapter Twenty-One #2
I reach to rip it off, to free him, to do something, anything.
Foster grabs my wrist with enough force to jerk me back.
“Don’t,” he says sharply. “You’ll tear his skin clean off. That’s not simply a piece of tape…that’s half a damn roll fused to him. We need chemicals to dissolve it.”
I freeze.
Then nod, barely.
My hands fall to Eli’s cheeks…what little I can touch.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” I whisper, voice shaking in a way I’ve never heard from myself. “I’m so fucking sorry it took us so long to get to you.”
Tank crouches next to us, running hands over the chains.
“Check for a key,” he says, voice low and furious. “We’re getting this shit off him now.”
Spike steps back, eyes landing on Knuckles’ still form.
“Bones,” he calls into his radio, voice thick. “I need a second van down here. Knuckles is dead… and we’re taking him home.”
Fresh tears fall from Eli’s eyes at Spike’s words.
“We’re getting him out of here, too, baby,” I murmur, leaning in close enough to kiss a tear right off his cheek.
His skin is cold. Too cold. “Listen to me, sweetheart…I need you to try to stop crying, alright? It’s making your nose run, and with your mouth taped like that, you’ll start having trouble breathing. Can you do that for me?”
Eli squeezes his eyes shut like he’s trying to hold the entire world together with sheer force of will…But still, more tears slide out.
Fuck. It kills me. It absolutely kills me.
“Got it,” Foster says from behind the chair. “Here…Tank, hold this side.”
Metal scrapes. Chains clink together.
The steel loosens.
Eli’s body slumps forward just a bit, but his head is still taped to the damn chair.
“Hold him, brother,” Foster says. “I’m cutting the tape back here.”
“I got you,” I whisper fiercely, slipping an arm around him. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe. Ready.”
Seconds later, Eli falls fully into my arms.
Tank moves in to support the chains as they fall away, keeping them from slamming against Eli’s body.
“There we go,” Tank murmurs gently, like he’s trying not to scare a wounded animal. “Easy, brother. We’ve got you. I’m going to take this gun, Eli. Move your finger, honey, so you don’t accidentally shoot me.”
Eli’s fingers twitch as Tank removes the gun and hands it to Spike. Then he removes the rest of the chain from around Eli’s arms and legs.
“Careful,” Foster warns. “He’s bleeding down the neck. Knuckles was applying pressure, looks like.”
The gun. Pressure on his wound. My stomach twists.
Even dead… Knuckles was protecting my man.
“Alright,” Foster says, voice steady but urgent. “Skip, I need to see his neck, brother.”
I lean a bit sideways, but I don’t move from Eli. I never will again.
“Looks like it might have started clotting,” he mutters. “Knuckles saved his life. He could have slowly bled out had he not pressed his hand there.”
I nod, jaw tight, and cup Eli’s head in both hands as much as the damn tape allows. His eyes flutter open, dazed and terrified.
“Stay with me, pretty boy,” I whisper. “Right here. Eyes on me.”
The corners of his taped mouth tremble.
He’s trying to smile for me.
God help me.
“Van’s here,” Bones says from the stairs, voice strained. “Fuck. Damnit, Knuckles.”
“We need to get him out of here, brother,” Maverick says quietly as he steps beside me, his hand landing heavy on my shoulder. “Want me to carry him? I’m only asking because you’re shaking, Skip.”
He’s right.
My whole body trembles like it’s running on rage and fumes alone.
But I tighten my grip on Eli, grounding myself.
“I got him,” I say, steadying my breath.
I look down at Eli.
His eyes are heavy, glassy, unfocused…and so damn scared.
“Baby,” I murmur, brushing my thumb under the edge of the tape to touch whatever skin I can. “Are you hurt anywhere we can’t see?”
He doesn’t answer me.
Shit.
“Alright,” I whisper, lowering my forehead to his just for a second. “I’m going to pick you up now, pretty boy. If I hurt you…even a little bit…I want you to pat my chest. Got me?”
He nods slowly, more tears falling, slipping along dried blood.
“I’ve got you,” I promise, voice cracking like something inside me is splitting open. “And I am never… not ever… letting you go.”
Carefully…so carefully I feel like my bones might snap from the tension…I gather him into my arms.
He folds against me like he was waiting for this moment, like his body recognizes mine.
I stand, holding him tight but gently, every instinct screaming to get him out of this fucking tomb.
I turn toward the stairs…and Tank is standing there.
He has Knuckles’ body slung over his shoulder.
My breath leaves me in one violent exhale.
Not a gasp. A collapse.
Knuckles’ arms hang limp, swaying with each tiny movement. His fingers are still stained with Eli’s blood, still curled like they’re trying to shield my man even in death.
My heart fucking cracks in half.
Tank’s jaw is clenched so hard a vein bulges at his temple.
“Let’s move,” Spike says hoarsely from behind him. “No more time in this place.”
I tighten my hold on Eli…because suddenly, I’m terrified to blink. Terrified that if I close my eyes, I’ll lose him too.
His body shudders against mine.
“I know, baby,” I whisper against Eli’s hair as I start toward the stairs. “I know. I’m getting you out. We’re going home.”
His fingers twitch, grabbing a tight hold of my cut.
And that tiny, familiar movement…that’s what keeps me breathing as we climb out of hell.