Chloe #2
"If you leave—” His voice was barely above a whisper. "They’ll find you." She looked toward the dark woods. He wasn't wrong.
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked.
He slowly released her. "There." He nodded toward the bridge, and tucked behind one of the support columns sat a weathered green metal box she'd completely overlooked.
She frowned. "What is that?"
"Railroad emergency phone."
Her eyes widened. "Those still work?"
"If we're lucky,” he whispered. She sprinted across the gravel to the old metal box. It creaked loudly when she opened it, and inside sat an ancient emergency handset. She lifted it and put it to her ear, hearing a dial tone.
"Oh, thank God." Hands shaking, she punched in the number from the paper. The phone rang once, twice, and a third time before someone answered.
"What?" The man's voice was gruff.
"I—" Her throat tightened. "I need Doc Mercer."
"Who's asking?" the man growled.
"Chloe Savage.”
"I don't know a Chloe Savage," he said. She looked back toward Vengeance.
He was struggling to stay conscious. "It's—” She searched desperately for something to say.
"He told me to call you." She looked down at the paper again.
“He told me to say—” Nothing came to mind, and then she remembered something—the lighter.
Never Like Him.
She closed her eyes. "He told me to say Never Like Him." The silence on the other end became absolute.
"Where are you?" the man asked.
Hope flooded through her. "Near an old railroad bridge."
"That's not helpful,” the man growled.
She looked around frantically. "There was a logging road."
"Is it a state road?” he asked.
She looked around the woods again. "I—" Had they crossed into West Virginia yet? She couldn't remember.
"Put him on,” the man ordered.
"I can't,” she admitted.
"Why not?" he asked.
"He's been shot,” she said.
The man's breathing changed instantly. "How bad is it?"
"I don't know,” she lied. From the amount of blood that he had lost, it was bad.
"Is he awake?" the doctor asked.
"Barely,” she said.
"Listen carefully." His voice became calm. "I need you to answer exactly what I ask."
She nodded before realizing he couldn't see her. "Okay."
"Where was he hit?"
"Left side,” she said.
"Is there an exit wound?"
"I don't know,” she insisted.
"Roll him over and check,” he ordered.
“Hold on,” she ordered. Chloe hurried back to Vengeance. "I'm sorry." He groaned as she carefully rolled him enough to inspect his back, and quickly ran back to the phone.
She gasped for air. "It went through."
"Good,” he said.
She frowned. "How is any of this good?"
"It’s better than the bullet still being inside him,” the doctor said.
The man continued giving instructions while Chloe tore strips from the bottom of her hoodie to make pressure bandages.
She ran back and forth between Vengeance and the phone, as she packed the wounds exactly the way he instructed.
Vengeance bit down hard enough on his lip to draw blood, but he never cried out.
By the time she finished, both of her hands were covered in his blood.
"Keep pressure on it,” the doctor ordered.
"I will,” she whispered.
"I'm leaving now,” the doctor promised.
"How long before you’ll be here?” she asked.
"Forty-five minutes." Relief nearly made her collapse.
"Please hurry,” she sobbed. The line went dead, and she ran back to Vengeance. She slowly sat beside him again. "He’s on his way, and you’re going to be okay.” She wished that she believed what she was saying.
He opened one eye. "Doc?"
She nodded. "He's coming."
A tired smile crossed his face. "Knew—” His breathing hitched. "You could do it."
She looked down at the blood covering her hands. "I almost lost you."
"You didn't,” he whispered.
"I thought I had,” she said.
He was quiet for a long moment. "So did I." The honesty surprised her, and she looked over at him. Moonlight filtered through the trees, illuminating the face she'd trusted, then hated, and now, she wasn't sure what she felt about him anymore.
"You should've told me."
His eyes stayed fixed on the stars overhead. "I know."
"I was angry."
"You had every right to be angry,” he said.
"I still am,” she insisted.
"I know."
She studied him. "You really hate your father."
A bitter laugh escaped him before he winced. "Hate isn't a strong enough word.” She believed him. Chloe reached over and adjusted the blood-soaked bandage, and he hissed through his teeth.
"Sorry,” she said.
"You've apologized a lot tonight."
"I'll probably apologize again,” she said.
"I know." A small smile tugged at her lips despite everything.
“Thanks for saving my life,” he whispered. “I knew that you liked me—deep down.”
She rolled her eyes. "I still don't like you very much."
"No?"
"No, but—” She looked down at his blood covering her hands.
"I'm beginning to think you're nothing like Dante.
" For the first time since she'd learned his last name, Vengeance smiled without sadness.
It lasted only a second, but somehow, it felt like the beginning of something neither of them had expected.