Chapter 33
GAVAN
Get up.
Get. Up.
Get UP.
My brain synapses begin to fire. Through the dull haze slowing everything down, my dry eyes swivel in their sockets until my gaze falls on the girl sprawled next to me—
Fuck. No.
GET. UP.
It’s like screaming into a void, trying to get my muscles to listen to me. I feel like I’m trying to run underwater, with weights tied to my limbs. Like I’m trapped in a pool of something viscous and sluggish, like syrup.
But when my eyes lock and slowly manage to focus on Eilish—looking so pale and broken and so fucking bloody next to me, the very last of my reserves kick in.
GET. THE. FUCK.
UP!
I lurch, my limbs like four logs as I slide off the couch. I roll, my nostrils flaring as I dig deep for even a shred of energy. Whatever was in that needle Svet stuck me with, it’s making everything go in slow motion. I can feel my heart beating, but it’s sluggish and slow.
Not just slow.
Slow ing .
My pulse is literally slowing down as the seconds tick by.
Fuck. I’m running out of time. And when my eyes drop to the horror show of Eilish’s gashed wrist, the full truth hits me.
So is she .
My phone’s not in my pocket. I vaguely remember Svetlana tossing it across the floor downstairs before she dragged me up here. And I don’t see Eilish’s bag anywhere.
I have to move. I fucking have to . My teeth grit, my hand sliding across the floor and grabbing hold of some fabric—Svet’s shirt, I’m pretty sure.
I drag it over, making my arms work somehow as I slump against the couch to wrap the fabric around Eilish’s wrist, tying it as tightly as my muscles will allow.
It’s not much. It’s not going to save her life. But it’ll buy her some time.
It’ll buy me some time.
I wince when my face hits the floor after I fall from the couch. One arm shoves forward, my fingers curling against the floor and my feet kick dully as my body inches across the room.
I groan, digging even deeper, trying to find any possible drop of anything I have left in me. I shove forward, my nails splintering, my feet scuffing on the floor as I drag myself out the door.
I inch down the hall. My vision goes black for a second when I reach up for the doorknob to the guest room.
I fall flat on my face, and feel my lip split open.
But I ignore the pain. I ignore every fucking thing and other thought in the world except the fact that I need this if I’m going to have a single shot of saving Eilish.
The contents of the drawer in the ensuite guest bathroom tumble over my chest when I yank it right out. My eyes lock on the one thing I came for. And with a strength I almost no longer possess, I reach across the bathroom floor and curl my numb fingers around it.
If Luna’s heart were to ever stop while she was at my place, a shot of this adrenaline would restart it enough to get infant CPR going and save her.
My heart hasn’t stopped yet.
But it’s going to, in a matter of minutes.
I thumb the cap off the pen. My vision goes dark again at the edges as my blood starts to feel like maple syrup in my veins.
This isn’t going to be pleasant.
My fist slams against my neck with the very last ounce of my strength. The needle jams into my artery as I shove down the plunger.
Holy fuck .
If your heart has stopped, adrenaline will get it pumping again.
If it hasn’t stopped yet, a shot of adrenaline is like mainlining thirty-thousand volts. And when that shit hits my bloodstream and surges into my heart—
Holy. Fucking. FUCK .
I lurch upright like something out of a horror movie: my eyes are bulging and wild, and a demon roar is screaming from my throat. It feels like my skin is on fire—like my heart is pounding a million miles an hour.
But I’m fucking ALIVE .
Whirling, I grab the second and third epi-pens off the floor, silently thanking Lukas for his over-protective nature when it comes to Luna.
One of these things is a child’s dose.
Two will take care of an adult.
Three is my insurance policy.
I scramble to my feet, my eyes bulging wide as I steel myself and slam the second pen into my neck.
Fucking HELL .
Pure energy explodes like napalm through my veins. I lurch, slamming into first one wall and then another before I crash out through the bathroom like an unsteady bull. Whatever Svetlana gave me is still fucking me up. But I can move. I can breathe.
I can save Eilish .
It takes everything I have not to rush to her first. But she needs more help than I can give.
I half-run, half-fall down the stairs, groaning as I slam into the ground at the bottom and charge like a drunk across the floor.
My phone is smashed. But I grab Eilish’s bag off the ground amidst a mess of broken glass and blood and yank out her phone.
I pound the third adrenaline shot into my neck before dropping the syringe to the floor.
I can barely focus as I turn and surge back upstairs like Frankenstein’s monster on a bender, ricocheting off the walls of the hallway until I crash back into the room where she’s dying right in front of me.
“ Stay with me, solnishka ,” I growl, cupping her face and prying her eyes open as I hold the phone in front of them.
Mercifully, it unlocks.
“Stay the fuck with me, Eilish!” I roar. “Stay with me!!”
I hit the top number on her favorites.
“Hey! Welcome back, Blondie—”
“ GET. HERE ,” I roar like a monster into the phone.
That third hit of adrenaline is hitting me hard. Maybe too hard.
“ Gavan ?!” Castle yells. “What the fuck—”
“ GET. HERE. FUCKING. NOW! ”
My heart isn’t slowing anymore. It’s beating too fast. Way too fucking fast. I shouldn’t have given myself that third shot of adrenaline. My arm starts to go numb, my breath coming ragged and shallow as my skin turns to fire.
Oh fuck .
I’m think I might be having a fucking heart attack.
“ Gavan— ”
“ MY! HOUSE! ” I bellow. “ HELP. EILISH. NOW! ”
He might not care about me, but he’ll come for her.
The phone falls from my hand. My heart is beating so fucking fast it feels like it’s going to explode from my chest. My jaw clenches, my eyes staring painfully wide as I slump on the couch next to her, shoving her bandaged wrist above her head and taking the other hand in mine.
“STAY WITH ME!!” I scream, choking as my breath comes too fast to manage. “EILISH… ”
My left arm is numb. My chest is tight.
No.
No, goddammit, NO.
I pull myself close to her, panting like I’ve just run a marathon, my vision blurring as I touch my forehead to hers.
“ I love you ,” I choke. “ I’ve loved you since the night I saw you .”
I wish I’d told her sooner than the second before we died.