Chapter 51
Soren
I’ve never moved this fast. Not even when I was escaping a hail of gunfire in an active warzone.
I sprint towards Carson’s car, where he and one of his personal guards wait with the back door already open.
I carry a barely conscious Raine across the dusty makeshift road, and scream at them to take us to a hospital.
“No,” Carson says to his security. “Take her to John’s. I’ve already messaged him.”
“Who the fuck is John?” I bark.
“Someone that can help her.” Carson picks up on my hesitation to trust him, and follows with, “You want heat from the cops? Be my guest. Have fun explaining how your girlfriend ended up in this state, and then—providing you manage to do the impossible and give an explanation that doesn’t warrant taking you in for questioning—enjoy trying to talk your way out of why you’re covered in blood that’s not your own.
Trust me, you take her to an ER in this state?
You’re suspect number one. They’re going to ask questions, and something tells me you want this shit to stay off the radar. Am I right?”
I pause for a few moments before I exhale and nod. He’s right.
I did just commit half a dozen murders.
My eyes drag down to Raine’s battered body as I slide us into the SUV.
Her head rests in my lap, body sprawled across the back seat.
Her body is a patchwork of bruises, cuts, and welts.
Her eyes are swollen shut, her skin is slick with blood, her breathing shallow, uneven. They beat the shit out of her.
My heart thrashes wildly in my chest as I process what just occurred.
She nearly died in a decrepit warehouse by the river. Now, the bodies of half a dozen men lay decaying inside.
To my relief, the SUV comes to a screeching halt outside a nondescript building, not far from where we just were. I don’t think Raine could last if the drive was any longer. She’s in a really bad way.
An older man with thinning hair and glasses, who I presume is John, opens the door wide. “The room is nearly ready. Take her into the bathroom in the meantime.”
Carson nods, beckoning me to follow. I scan the place quickly; I don’t have time to fully scope it out, but it’s a safehouse of some sort, similar to what the Agency uses.
I’m also not too happy about trusting this John guy just because Carson says to, but what choice do I have?
My back’s up against the wall, and my girl’s life is literally on the line.
I rush Raine into the bathroom, setting her down gently on the floor, her back up against the edge of the tub. Her face flinches at the movement of being sat up. She groans softly.
“Hey,” I murmur, grabbing the first aid kit Carson’s security tossed onto the floor when we came in. “I’ve got you.”
The zipper is caught. It’s fucking stuck. I yank it again, and again, but my hands won’t stop shaking, and I can’t get a solid grip. And I don’t fucking shake. Ever. But I almost lost her tonight.
My chest splits open. I almost lost her.
I still might.
“Someone bring me a small bowl of warm water!” I bark to anyone who will listen.
I kneel between her knees, and rip the zipper off completely, tearing the kit open with my teeth.
I peel her soaked singlet over her stomach and swear under my breath.
The bruising across her ribs and abdomen is deep and purple.
Her ribs are probably cracked. Lungs likely punctured. Internal bleeding is a given.
They’ve beaten her like she was nothing.
I clean the abrasions as best I can with the bandages and ointment in the first aid kit. It’s nothing compared to the care she needs, but it’s something.
I have to do something.
The same guy who tossed me the first aid kit brings in a small bowl, filled with warm water, just as I’d asked.
I dip a cloth in the warm water and start wiping blood oozing from her lip. She winces, and I pause, my thumb brushing her lips. Her eyes flicker open, hazy, unfocused. They are eyes succumbing to pain.
“Soren?”
“Yeah.” My voice is rough. I clear my throat. “I’m here.”
She tries to sit up straighter, but I stop her with a hand to her shoulder. “Don’t move. You’re hurt.”
I expect her to come back with a smart-ass quip. Something like, “You should see the other guy,” but she doesn’t. She stays silent. That’s how I know she’s really hurt.
“How did you find me?”
“I was with Carson. He got a call.”
I press the cloth gently against another open wound, this time the split above her eyebrow. But she needs urgent medical attention, not this halfway house bullshit. She’s critically injured for fuck’s sake. Cleaning superficial wounds doesn’t mean shit when she needs intensive care.
Fuck this.
“Carson!” I yell, standing. I exit the bathroom to find him standing, talking quietly to one of his guys in the main sitting room. “She needs a doctor, right fucking now. She’s bleeding out!”
Carson nods to an open door behind him, and I see a few more of his men and the man named John moving around what looks like a hospital bed. I notice an IV drip with bags of fluids and a heart rate monitor, plus another machine with a giant needle in it. Morphine probably.
“Is it ready?” Carson asks loudly, not breaking my stare.
“Yes, sir. Bring her in.”
I race back into the bathroom and gently pick Raine up in my arms. I carry her into the room and place her on the bed before stepping back and letting the people connect her to the IV and monitors. They're efficient, I'll give them that. They move with ease, obviously this isn't their first rodeo.
“We’ll get her stable,” John offers. “Doesn’t have everything a hospital does, but it’ll keep her alive. For now. We’ll leave you alone with her for a while.”
The room empties until it’s just Raine and I. My ears adjust to the silence, the only sound belonging to the intermittent beeping from the machines monitoring her vitals. I collapse into the chair next to her and watch her chest rise and fall. Her breathing is too short, too shallow.
This is a temporary fix; she can’t stay here with only half of what she needs.
Pure terror races through me again. I’ve stared down death a thousand times, but all that pales in insignificance when compared with the fear of losing her. Because if she dies?
I will tear this world down and burn it to the motherfucking ground.
I drop my head into my hands, trying to breathe, trying to think.
“Soren.”
I snap my head up to find Raine staring at me through half-opened, swollen, bloodshot eyes.
“Yeah,” I rasp. “I’m here.”
She swallows and asks, “What did you save me for? You’re free.”
Is she for real?
“You’d be dead if I didn’t.”
“Good,” she slurs, voice broken in a million different ways. “Death is my way out of this shitty life.”
My throat closes up. Like a tennis ball is lodged in my throat.
This is not who I am. I’m a regimented black ops soldier for fuck’s sake, not some weeping lovesick fool.
But she sees it, sees me stumbling and not coping very well.
Her fingers twitch towards mine. I grab her hand with both of mine and clasp onto her.
“You can’t die.”
Her skin shudders underneath my touch.
“Because if you die? I die.”
She exhales like I've knocked the air clean out of her.
“You hear me?”
She nods softly as her eyes shut and falls into a deep, sedated sleep.