Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHASE
One Week Later
I'm sitting at the desk in our apartment, working on the third chapter of my novel, which is a psychological thriller about a forensic psychiatrist who falls in love with a serial killer.
Noah is in the bedroom, on a call with someone from the Blackrose Saints.
My phone vibrates and I see Ivan's name flash on the screen.
I answer. "Hey Ivan."
"Chase." Ivan's voice is wrong, strained and panicked. Ivan doesn't panic. Ever. "Tyler's been involved in a hit and run, they're taking him to St. Luke's. You need to get here now."
I freeze, no, this cannot be happening. "What? What happened?"
"Looks like a deliberate hit and run, they got away fast, happened not far from the house so it had to have been planned," Ivan's breathing is ragged. "Chase, it's bad and they're taking him into surgery.”
The line goes dead and I'm on my feet before I realize I'm moving, my hands shaking as I grab my jacket. Noah appears in the doorway, his expression shifting from neutral to alert in an instant.
"What's wrong?"
"Tyler, he's been hit by a car. Hit and run, and they're taking him to St. Luke's." My voice sounds distant, like it's coming from someone else. "I have to go."
"I'll drive you."
"No." I'm already moving toward the door. "You're on a call,” I fumble with my phone, trying to call Noah's number even though he's standing right in front of me. My brain isn't working properly. "I'll call you when I know more."
“No, I’m taking you, the Saints can wait.”
Noah catches my wrist, his grip firm but not painful. "Chase, you need to breathe."
I try, but I can't, every worst possible outcome floods my mind.
I don't remember leaving the house or getting into the car. The city blurs past the windows as we approach the city, the traffic is heavy like it always fucking is, and every red light feels like an eternity.
Tyler.
My big brother. The one person in my family who loved me, worked hard to raise me so I could make something of my life while he put his on hold. The most caring and amazing man you would ever meet. And someone tried to kill him.
Deliberate, Ivan had said. The driver fled.
Was this to do with Ivan’s work? The Kozlovs? Payback? I have so many damn questions, but I need to get to my brother. My stomach lurches and I put my hand over my mouth, trying to keep the sick feeling at bay.
“Breathe, baby. We’re nearly there,” Noah says, his hand gripped in my hair while he steers with the other.
St. Luke's finally comes into view, and as soon as Noah stops the car I run through the emergency entrance. The fluorescent lights are too bright, the antiseptic smell overwhelming.
"Tyler Blackford," I gasp at the reception desk. "He was just brought in, a hit and run. Where is he?" The nurse types something into her computer. "He's in surgery. ICU waiting room, fourth floor." I'm already running.
The ICU waiting room is small, sterile, filled with uncomfortable chairs and the quiet hum of a television no one is watching. Ivan is there, pacing like a caged animal. His usually immaculate appearance is disheveled, his shirt untucked, his hair messed up, blood on his hands. Tyler's blood.
"Ivan, how is he?"
He turns, and I see something in his eyes I've never seen before. Fear. Raw, unfiltered fear.
"They took him straight into surgery," Ivan says, his voice tight. "Multiple fractures and internal bleeding. They don't know…" He stops, his jaw clenching. "They don't know if he's going to make it, Chase."
My legs give out as I sink into one of the chairs, my hands gripping the armrests so hard my knuckles turn white.
"Tell me what happened?"
"Tyler wanted me to join him on his evening walk, he does it just to get out of the house.
Helps him connect with nature, apparently," Ivan sits beside me, his hands clasped between his knees.
"We had walked about a block on the back roads behind the house and a car came out of nowhere.
Black sedan, no plates. It veered toward him from behind before I could do anything, then it reversed and drove off. "
"You saw it?"
"I saw everything." His voice is cold now, controlled. The fear is being buried under something darker. "The driver wore a halloween mask, but I saw the tattoo on his forearm when he reversed. Blackrose Saints’ rival gang, The Serpents."
My breath catches. "Wait, a rival gang of the club? But why would they come after Tyler?"
“Revenge,” he says, as he stares intensely at me. Then it hits me. Noah.
“Oh my god, is this to do with the guy Noah hurt at the clubhouse? The one who was dealing on Kozlov turf?”
"The man Noah killed, yes. The guy failed to mention that he was a member of The Serpents, protecting them no doubt.
" Ivan looks at me, and I see his darkness beneath the fear.
"This is retaliation because they couldn't get to Noah or the Kozlovs directly, so they went after someone connected who was an easy target. "
Tyler.
"Where's Noah?" Ivan asks.
"Parking the car."
Ivan's expression shifts. "That’s taking a long time, I don’t think he’s coming."
"What?"
"Noah. He’s gone to find who is responsible, thinking it is to protect you. Shit." Ivan stands, pulling out his phone. "I need to find him before he does something that starts a war we aren’t prepared for."
"Ivan, wait…"
But he's already dialing, stepping away from me to speak in rapid Russian. I sit alone in the waiting room, staring at the doors that lead to the surgical wing. Behind those doors, my brother is fighting for his life, because of a world we have both fallen into.
Hours pass as Ivan makes call after call, his voice getting colder and more impatient with each conversation. I don't move because I physically can’t. I just sit and stare at those doors, waiting.
Later in the night, Noah appears. He's wearing all black, his expression unreadable, but I see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands are clenched at his sides.
Our eyes meet across the waiting room and with that connection with him, something inside me breaks. I'm on my feet, crossing the distance between us, and then I'm against his chest, my hands fisting in his shirt. I don't cry because I can't cry, but my whole body is shaking.
Noah's arms come around me, solid and steadying me. He doesn't say anything and just holds me.
"He's still in surgery, he might not make it," I manage.
"I know, Ivan messaged me."
"You know why this happened? Because of the clubhouse?"
"Yeah, I had Marcus’ men look into it. Nobody knew he was part of that gang."
His voice is so calm, like he's discussing the weather instead of my brother's life hanging in the balance. I pull back, looking up at him, but before I can speak, the doors to the surgical wing open. A doctor in scrubs approaches, her expression grave.
"Family of Tyler Blackford?"
Ivan and I both step forward and Noah stays behind me, a silent presence of support.
"I'm his brother," I say. "This is his partner, Ivan. How is he?"
The doctor's expression gives nothing away.
"Tyler sustained multiple injuries in the collision.
Three fractured ribs, a fractured pelvis, a compound fracture of his left femur, and significant internal bleeding.
We've managed to stabilize him and repair the internal damage, but the next 48 hours are critical. "
"Is he going to survive?" Ivan's voice is steady, but I can hear the strain beneath it.
"His condition is serious but stable. We're moving him to the ICU for monitoring. He's sedated and on a ventilator. You can see him briefly, but he won't be conscious."
"Can we see him now?" I ask.
"Give us twenty minutes to get him settled and a nurse will come get you."
She leaves and Ivan immediately pulls out his phone again, stepping away to make another call.
I turn to Noah and he looks at me like he is looking through glass. It scares me.
"You already know who did this," I say quietly.
"We have a name."
"What are you going to do?"
Noah's expression doesn't change. "What needs to be done. Ivan and I are handling it, you stay here with Tyler. Simon will be here soon to keep an eye out."
"I want to help."
"No." He cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. "Your role right now is here with your brother. Let me handle the rest."
I want to argue. Want to insist that I'm part of this, that I should be involved. But looking into Noah's eyes, I see the truth, this isn't my world, not this part anyway. Right now, I'm just a brother whose sibling is fighting for his life.
"Promise me you'll be careful," I whisper.
"I'm always careful."
"Promise me."
"I'll come back." He kisses my lips firmly, then he's gone, moving toward Ivan. They speak in low voices, their expressions cold and focused. Planning.
A nurse appears. "You can see Tyler now."
I follow her through the doors, down a sterile hallway, into the ICU.
Tyler is in the third room, surrounded by machines that beep and hiss.
He looks so small in the hospital bed, his face pale, tubes and wires everywhere.
I sink into the chair beside his bed and take his hand carefully, mindful of the IV.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper. "Tyler, I'm so sorry."
He doesn't respond because he can’t. The only noise in the room is the ventilator that breathes for him, steady and mechanical, and the heart monitor with the dull tones of his resting heartbeat.
Behind me, I hear Ivan enter, and he stands on the other side of the bed, his hand resting on Tyler's shoulder, then he leans down and kisses Tyler’s forehead.
"Noah and I are leaving," Ivan says quietly. "We'll be back by morning."
"Be careful."
"We will." He looks at me, and I see the monster, fully emerged now. "Whoever did this won't survive the night."
Then he's gone too. I sit alone with my unconscious brother, listening to the machines that are keeping him alive, and I realize something.
This is what it means to be part of this world.
While the anticipation and excitement exist it is overrun by a much larger force, the consequences and inevitable blood spilled.
And I chose it anyway.
I chose Noah. I chose this life, just like Tyler chose his with Ivan. And I’m pretty sure even now he wouldn’t choose to be anywhere else.
I rest my forehead against our joined hands and finally, finally let myself feel the full weight of what we've become.