Chapter 38 Silas
SILAS
It takes four sets of arms to drag me away from her. Four men to haul me off as medics work on her, trying to make her breathe, trying to make her stop bleeding.
Ethan laughs, the sound unhinged and wild.
I look at him. Two men hold his arms behind his back, handcuffs closing around his wrists, the gun on the lawn discarded too late. It’s done its damage.
My arm aches as if my mind just now remembers the bullet lodged inside it.
The sound of chopper blades breaks into the night, whipping freezing air and wet snow around us.
A stretcher appears out of nowhere and two men lift Ophelia and strap her to it.
She still doesn’t move, and when they hurry toward the chopper, her arm slips off the side, helpless. The ring I gave her catches the light.
I need to go to her. I need to go now.
I tear myself away from the men holding me and sprint toward the chopper as they load her on.
No one will stop me from going with her.
They must see that because a few moments later, we’re airborne.
I hold her hand as they put an oxygen mask over her face and someone pumps air into her lungs to make her breathe.
I hold her small, freezing hand in mine to let her know I’m here.
I’m with her. I’ll stay with her, and I’ll be here when she opens her eyes.
Because she will open her eyes. She has to open her eyes. She has to.