Chapter 39 Ethan
Ethan
No.
Not again.
My hands clamp down over the wound, trying to stop what won’t stop—blood soaking through my fingers, hot and slick, slipping no matter how hard I press.
“Jonah—I need extraction. Now!”
“On it!” comes back in my ear, sharp and immediate.
I don’t look up.
I can’t.
“Ava—hey—stay with me.”
Her lashes flutter.
For a second, her eyes don’t open.
My chest locks.
“No—no—look at me.”
They crack open.
Just enough.
Find me.
Good.
Stay there.
Stay right there.
“You’re not dying here,” I say, my voice low and rough. “You hear me? That’s not happening.”
Her fingers twitch against my vest—weak, barely there—but it’s something.
Still here.
Still fighting.
“Ava—”
“I’ve got you.”
Always.
I slide one arm under her, lifting her carefully—but fast, because every second feels like it’s already too late.
She’s too light.
Too still.
No.
I adjust my grip, pulling her tighter against me, like I can hold her together if I don’t let go.
We move.
Fast.
Through the chaos.
Through people scattering, voices shouting, boots pounding—
Ronan clears the path ahead—
Aaron’s gunfire cuts through anything that gets too close—
The team moves like clockwork—
But I don’t see them.
Don’t hear them.
Just her.
Just Ava.
Her breath against my chest—
faint—
uneven—
there—
gone—
there again—
The helicopter comes into view.
Too far.
Too slow.
Always too slow.
“Stay with me,” I whisper into her hair, tightening my hold when her head dips.
Her lips part.
A breath slips out.
Barely there.
But it’s there.
Good.
That’s enough.
That’s everything.
“You hear me?” I murmur. “You don’t get to leave. Not again.”
The doors swing open.
Medics rush forward—hands reaching for her—
I don’t let go.
Not right away.
I can’t.
Not until they’re pulling her from my arms.
Even then—
my hands linger—
like letting go might be the mistake.
“Save her,” I say.
My voice is quiet.
Flat.
Not a request.
Not hope.
A command.
Because losing her again—
is not an option.