THIRTY ONE
P hillip stood over Poison, his heart pounding in his chest as he gazed down at her lifeless form. With a sickening, sinking feeling, his actions bore down upon him like a boulder dropping to the bottom of a well, the reality of what he had almost done sinking in with bone-chilling clarity.
As he looked into her still face, he saw the change in her eyes, a softening of her glare to one of awe and then to one of absolute horror. In that moment, something shifted within him, a realization that struck him like a bolt of lightning.
He couldn’t kill Poison. Not now, not ever. The thought of taking her life, the life of someone he loved, filled him with a profound sense of horror and disbelief. How had he not realized it before? How had he let things come to this?
In a daze, he stumbled backward, his blood-stained hands trembling as they hovered over his mouth. He felt as if he were drowning in a sea of guilt and regret, his mind reeling with the enormity of what he had almost done.
But one thing remained clear: he was in love with her. He had never felt this way about anyone before, never been so utterly captivated by another person. It was her confidence, her beauty, her very essence that drew him to her like she was the only magnet that could pull his cold, iron heart, igniting a fire within him that he had never known existed.
With a desperate plea, he kneeled beside her, his voice choked with emotion as he reached out to her lifeless form.
“Wake up, Poison,” he whispered, his words a prayer whispered into the void. “Please wake up. You have to wake up. Minke, please! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” His words turned into desperate pleas, tears stinging his eyes.
His begging turned to sobbing as the word please beated from his lips in a mantra.
But even as he spoke, he knew it was futile. He had crossed a line from which there was no return, a line that
he could never erase. And as he looked down at her, he knew that he would spend the rest of his days haunted by the memory of what he had done.
Dennis rushed into the ring, his hands trembling as he reached for Poison’s neck. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, every heartbeat echoing in the silence that enveloped them. Then, with a sigh of relief, Dennis spoke, his voice tinged with an unusual animation.
“I feel a pulse. She’s alive—but barely.”
The words pierced through the thick haze of shock that clouded Phillip’s mind. With a surge of urgency, he darted toward her, his heart pounding in his chest as he lifted her limp form into his arms. His voice, hollow and strained, escaped in a croak just above her head.
“I have to get her to the hospital.”
With her nestled against his shoulder, he moved toward the edge of the ring, his steps numbing. At the edge of the ring, he hesitated. He didn’t want to let go of her, but Gunnar held his arms out, ready to take her on the other side of the ropes. As he passed her over the ropes to him, a sense of protectiveness washed over him, a fierce instinct to shield her from any threat that dared to come near. That included Gunnar, but he forced himself to let go of her, but only long enough to climb through the ropes.
Once on solid ground, Phillip reclaimed Poison in his arms, cradling her with a tenderness that belied the chaos that raged around them. With each step through the stunned crowd, he drew her closer to his chest as if, by sheer will alone, he could keep her safe from any further harm.
Kitiara met him at the entrance of the Temple, her face horror struck as she took in the state of Poison in his arms.
“Bring the car around,” she barked to the closest guard, and Phillip had never been more grateful for anyone. “Careful not to worsen her injuries,” she warned. “Keep her still and get her to a hospital.”
“Thank you.” That was all he managed to whisper to his friend, walking to the door.
He made it down two steps when Kitiara called out to him again, and he had to fight himself to force his muscles to turn back.
“Best to take her to a hospital in her territory,” she cautioned, and Phillip knew that would be the right thing to do.
She would still be in harm’s way if she remained in Japanese territory. So, with a nod, he climbed into the back of the stretched town car that pulled up next to him, never easing his grip on Poison’s still form.
As the car pulled away from the curb, he leaned back in his seat, his heart beating painfully against his ribcage as he stroked her bloodstained hair.
After what felt like an eternity, the driver cut the car’s engine in front of a hospital he had never visited before. The driver rushed around and held the door open. Scooting out of his seat, he cradled Poison’s still limp body in his arms as he got out of the vehicle.
With each step to the looming emergency room doors, dread filled his lungs as Poison’s breathing was near impossible to detect against his body. Tears threatened to resurface, and he had to blink them back.
What if he was too late? What if he didn’t stop himself in time? What if… he couldn’t let himself finish his trail of thought.
Just as everything threatened to overwhelm him, a doctor came rushing out of the doors, other medical staff on his heels, pushing a stretcher. The doctor tried to take Poison from his arms, but he couldn’t let go. He needed to protect her. It was his fault she was here in the first place.
“Scorpion,” the doctor said, a hand resting on his forearm.
He looked at the contact and back at the doctor, his face matching his own pain.
“Please let me take care of Poison. I promise no further harm will come to her,” he said, and Phillip’s mind cleared, allowing him to take her from his arms.
“You know who I am? Who she is?” he asked the doctor, who answered with a soft smile.
“She’s family, so yes, on both accounts,” he whispered, laying her on the stretcher and rushing back through the doors.
Phillip breathed a sigh of relief and made a mental
note to thank Kitiara for suggesting he bring her here.
“Female, thirty-one years of age. Blood type O-negative. Vital signs are unstable,” the doctor announced to the nurses around him, checking Poison’s eyes with a small flashlight. “What are her injuries?” the doctor asked, looking at him.
He tried not to look away; shame washing over him as he tried to list everything he had done.
“Sprained right ankle,” he stated, trying to keep emotion from his voice. “Broken left arm, possible fractured jaw, broken nose and blunt force trauma to the abdomen. So possible internal bleeding.”
Hearing himself voice the damage that he had done sent a wave of nausea to take hold of him, and cold sweat beaded on his brow as they rushed down a hallway.
“You heard him,” the doctor said to a nurse. “Prep OR two and get Doctor Schultz in there.”
They neared a set of doors, and one of the nurses stopped him.
“I’m sorry, sir, but this is as far as you can go,” she said, and Phillip had the feeling she’s had a lot of practice saying that sentence.
“No,” he pleaded. “I need to stay with her.”
He tried to move past her, but she stepped in his way.
“Sir, she needs to go into surgery. You can wait in the seating area. We will update you as soon as possible,” she insisted.
“No,” he begged, tears forming in his eyes as the doctor pushed Poison through the doors. “I need to be with her.”
“We will take care of her,” the doctor called over his shoulder as they disappeared through the doors.
He fell against the wall. Years of pain, anger, and longing came crashing to the surface, crushing his heart under its weight as he sank to the floor, the doors swinging shut and blocking his view of Poison with a final hollow thud.
His heart raced as he sat on the edge of his seat in the sterile, hospital waiting room. Each passing second felt like an eternity as he anxiously awaited news of Poison’s condition, feeling utterly helpless.
As he sat there, his mind consumed by worry, the young doctor approached him in the waiting room. Phillip’s heart leaped in his chest as he rose to meet him, a desperate hope shining in his eyes.
“How is she?” His voice trembled, his fingers fidgeting nervously as he waited for the doctor’s response. The weight of uncertainty suffocated him with each passing moment.
The doctor’s expression softened with understanding as he regarded him, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. Phillip knew the doctor could see the turmoil etched in his features, the guilt that crushed his soul. The fact that he called Poison family meant he must have known what had happened.
“She’s stable,” the doctor began. “Took some heavy blows to the head. Concussion, a hairline fracture on her jaw, and, as you said, sprained ankle, a badly broken arm and nose, and localized internal bleeding. They are operating now. How did this happen?”
Phillip’s gaze faltered, guilt washing over him, suffocating him. He averted his eyes, unable to meet the doctor’s probing stare, and responded with uncertainty, his voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s a long story. When can I see her?” There was a pleading edge to his words, a desperate longing to be by her side.
“As soon as she wakes up, I will take you to her,” the doctor promised.
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“Call me Nick,” Nick smiled. “She has no blood relatives, so I’m sure she will be happy to see you.”
Sinking into his seat, Phillip buried his head in his hands, emotions boiling inside him.
“I’m going to get you a cup of coffee,” Nick said, and Phillip heard him walk away.
A moment later, he returned with two cups and handed him one.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking one from Nick.
“Don’t mention it,” Nick answered and sat down
next to him, taking a sip of his coffee.
“So how do you know Poison?” Phillip asked, trying to sound as calm as possible.
Nick smiled. “She’s like a sister to us,” he answered, and Phillip saw his worry mirrored in the doctor’s features. “I met her here, actually. Back when I was still a med student.”
“So how much do you know?” he asked, fearing the answer.
“It isn’t any of my business, Scorpion. Poison’s affairs are her own, and if you don’t feel like sharing, I won’t ask any questions.”
“She told you about me?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
Nick nodded, his smile widening. “The fact that she did, means you are important to her.”
Phillip’s head snapped toward Nick, confusion furrowing his brows, and Nick let out a low laugh.
“She’s quite something, that one.” And he had to agree. “But I don’t think she has ever mentioned another man to us before. Unless it was an opponent.”
“Us?” he asked, trying to keep himself distracted.
“My girlfriend, Nina, and I. We’re a family.”
The thought of Poison having people who cared about her, comforted him in a way he had never experienced before.
“But let me go and check on her,” Nick said, rising to his feet. “She should be back in her room by now.”
“Thank you, Doc... Nick,” Phillip corrected when Nick gave him a look.
“Don’t mention it,” he answered, walking out of the room.
After what felt like hours, Nick returned, and Phillip leapt to his feet, his crumbled, empty coffee cup tumbling off his lap.
“Is she awake?” he asked, and Nick nodded in answer. “Can I see her?”
“Sure. Just don’t upset her,” he warned. “She shouldn’t go through any more trauma,” he cautioned, a hint of worry lingering in his voice.
“I won’t,” Phillip promised, his gratitude evident as he addressed Nick with a nod of appreciation, and Nick turned, leading Phillip through the swinging doors.