Chapter Thirty Nine
Declarations in the Heat of the Moment
Jameson Bishop
Her weight shifts in my arms, too light and limp, panic claws up my throat.
“Rachel,” I whisper, tightening my hold, “stay with me.”
She stirs, a small sound escaping her lips. Her head presses weakly against my shoulder, breath trembling. She’s fighting. She’s still fighting.
“Bishop…” Her voice is thin, frayed at the edges.
“I’m here.” I adjust my grip, keeping pressure on the wound with my palm. “I’ve got you.”
She tries to lift her head, but it barely moves. Her fingers twitch against my chest, searching for something to hold on to. I shift her so she can see my face, even if her eyes barely stay open.
“Talk to me,” I say, voice breaking. “Keep talking.”
Her lashes flutter. “Did… did you kill her?”
“Yes.” My jaw tightens. “She’s gone. She can’t hurt you anymore.”
Rachel exhales a shaky breath, relief and pain tangled together. “Good… good.”
Her eyes close again.
“No.” I nudge her cheek gently with my thumb. “Hey. Look at me.”
She forces them open, barely, but she does it. For me.
“I’m… trying,” she whispers.
“I know.” My voice cracks. “I know you are.”
Her hand lifts a little, trembling, and rests against my collarbone. It’s barely a touch, but it feels like she’s anchoring herself to me.
“Bishop…” Her breath catches. “Don’t… let go.”
My chest shatters. “I won’t. I swear to you, I won’t.”
She swallows, wincing. “It’s… cold.”
“I know.” I pull her closer, trying to give her every bit of warmth I have. “Stay awake. Stay with me.”
Her eyes drift again, but she fights them open, meeting mine with a look that’s all pain and determination.
“I heard you,” she whispers.
My heart stops. “What?”
“You said… you love me.”
I inhale sharply, the words hitting me harder than the gunshot. “I meant it.”
She tries to smile, but it twists into a grimace of pain. “I… I love you too.”
The world tilts.
I almost stumble.
But I hold her tighter, because she’s slipping, and I can’t let her slip.
“Rachel,” I breathe, forehead pressed to hers, “stay with me. Keep talking. Tell me anything. Tell me everything.”
She exhales a trembling breath. “Tell me… we’re almost there.”
“We’re close,” I lie, because she needs hope more than truth right now. “Just keep your eyes open.”
She tries. God, she tries.
Her fingers curl into my shirt again, weak but determined.
“Bishop… don’t let me die.”
My throat closes. “I won’t. I won’t. I’m getting you out. I’m getting you help. You’re going to live. You hear me?”
Her eyes slip halfway shut.
“Rachel,” I whisper, voice breaking, “stay with me.”
She forces them open one more time.
“I’m… trying.”
And I keep moving, faster, harder, carrying the woman I love through the forest, her blood on my hands, her breath fading, her courage burning.
I will not lose her.
The trees thin. The ridge levels. And then finally I see it.
The compound.
Lights. Movement. People.
I nearly drop to my knees.
Rachel is barely conscious in my arms, her breath a thin, trembling thread against my throat. Her blood has soaked through my shirt, warm and terrifying, and every step feels like I’m carrying her through water, through fire, through hell.
But I don’t stop.
I don’t even slow.
I stumble into the clearing, shouting before I realize I’m shouting.
“HELP! I need help. She’s been stabbed. Rachel…she’s…”
Heads snap toward me. The coroner’s team. Two officers. A medic who was supposed to be waiting for transport.
They rush forward.
Hands reach for her. Voices blur. Someone grabs my arm. Someone else takes her weight.
And for the first time since she fell against me, I have to let go.
I nearly fight them. I nearly tear her back into my arms. But her head lolls, her breath falters, and the medic’s voice cuts through the fog.
“We’ve got her. Let go. We’ve got her.”
I do.
Barely.
They lower her onto a stretcher, cutting her shirt, packing the wound, shouting vitals, calling for the ambulance already parked near the compound entrance. Someone asks me what happened. Someone else asks who stabbed her.
I can’t answer.
I can’t think.
I can only watch her chest rise and fall. Too shallow, too slow.
“Stay with her,” I say, voice breaking. “Don’t let her slip. Don’t…don’t let her…”
“She’s still with us,” the medic says, but his tone is tight. “We need to move. Now.”
They wheel her toward the ambulance.
I follow, stumbling, shaking, barely able to breathe.
The doors slam. The siren ignites. The ambulance pulls away.
I stand there for half a second, just long enough to feel the world tilt, just long enough to feel the terror sink its teeth into me.
And then I run.
David’s truck is parked crooked near the compound. I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I yank the door open, climb in, and slam the engine to life.
Gravel sprays behind me as I tear down the road, the ambulance’s lights flickering ahead like a lifeline I’m terrified I’ll lose.
My hands shake on the wheel. My breath comes in ragged bursts. My vision blurs.
“Don’t die,” I whisper into the empty cab. “Rachel, don’t die. Don’t leave me. Not now. Not after-”
The words choke out of me.
Not after I finally told you. Not after you said it back. Not after everything we survived.
The ambulance turns onto the main road. I follow so close I could touch the bumper. Every second feels like a countdown. Every mile feels like a threat.
What if she’s already gone? What if she fades before they get there? What if the last thing she ever hears is me begging her to stay?
I grip the wheel harder, knuckles white.
“Hold on,” I whisper. “Hold on, sweetheart. I’m right behind you.”
And I drive like the world is ending.
Because if she dies, mine will.