CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Kol
THE BLOWS WERE VICIOUS. ONE AFTER ANOTHER AS EACH woman battled for the upper hand. I tried to focus solely on the task in front of me. Trying to get Cora in my sights. A clear shot with no risk to Nova.
My phoenix.
I couldn’t let myself think about everything she’d been through. All she was still going through. I could only think about ending this.
Nova’s knees came up, and as she let out a pained sound, Cora flew into the air. I didn’t wait. Two shots. Center mass.
She crumpled to the floor, but I was already moving, my gun trained on her. She let out a series of wheezing breaths. A stuttered cough. Then nothing at all. Cora’s green eyes were wide and unblinking.
A brutal sort of pain, the kind that came from the heaviest responsibility, crashed through me as I bent to press two fingers to her neck. No pulse.
Nova let out an agonized noise, and I whirled as sirens sounded in the distance. And that’s when I saw it. Cora’s knife, protruding from Nova’s side.
Everything in me ran cold, as if my blood itself were slowing.
“Kol,” she croaked, her face unnaturally pale.
I sank to my knees, taking her hand in one of mine as I tried to assess her wounds with the other. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
“Take it out,” Nova rasped. “Please.”
It wasn’t pain and responsibility swirling now; it was pure agony. “I can’t. I’m so sorry, but that could make it worse. We have to wait.”
“Oh … kay …” Her breaths were more labored now. Her eyelids fluttering. But the way she gave me her trust, even when I was causing her pain? It sliced me open.
I squeezed her hand hard. “Stay with me, Phoenix. Hear those sirens? Those are for you. Help’s coming.”
“Fighting … not … giving … up …” Those eyelids closed fully then, stealing the silver from me.
Panic speared through me, and it felt like icy claws piercing my heart. I bent down, leaning over Nova. No breath sounds.
I didn’t let myself feel that. I turned it all off so I could act.
One hand covered my other as I settled them along her sternum. I began compressions. Everything about it felt wrong as I pressed hard on bone and muscle, sinew and organs. Hurting Nova more in the hopes of saving her.
My mouth came to hers in two rescue breaths. Then my hands were back to compressions.
Her body shook with the force of it. But I had no choice.
“You’re alive,” I rasped. “You’re breathing.”
And I would keep breathing for her until she could breathe on her own.
The chair in the tiny reception room wasn’t meant for someone my size. The hard plastic felt like it would split in two at any moment. But I didn’t care.
It had been too long, hours since we’d arrived at the hospital by ambulance. Hours since Nova had been wheeled into surgery.
And we were all just … waiting.
Waylon and Orion had stayed with Owen and Skylar at the ranch. But the rest of us were here. Aster sat, face pale as she stared at the floor in front of her. But I didn’t miss the way Mav’s gaze traveled to her every so often, as if to make sure she was okay.
Wylder sat one chair down from her, his expression completely closed down.
I knew Cora meant something to him, and him not seeing who she truly was would carry a weight I knew he wouldn’t recover from anytime soon.
I wanted to go to him, tell him none of this was his fault, but I couldn’t get my body to obey.
My gaze flicked to Brae and Dex, then quickly away. It was too painful to really look at Brae. Her face was tear-streaked, and her amber eyes were bloodshot. But it was the agony clearly ravaging her entire body that shredded my chest. Because Nova was her family.
My fingers tightened on the arms of my chair, the plastic creaking at the force. I’d scrubbed them in the bathroom, but I could still see tiny flecks of blood in places. Tiny flecks of Nova.
It nearly broke me, every last part of me coming so close to fracturing under the weight of it all.
Footsteps sounded, and my head jerked up.
I was hoping for the surgeon or even a nurse, but instead, Roger filled the waiting room doorway.
He wore that mask most of us in law enforcement had perfected over the years, but as his gaze traveled over all of us, just sitting and waiting, he sucked in an audible breath. “Any news?”
Maverick shook his head. “She’s in surgery. That’s all we know. We heard the reporter is, too, but they won’t tell us anything because we’re not family.”
Roger jerked his head and came to sit one chair down from me.
“Anything on your end?” I asked, my voice robotic.
“We found Piper,” Roger said. “Got Cora’s location data from her phone company, and there was an old cabin about five miles from the campsite where she was keeping Piper and Heidi. One that’s not on record. Piper’s got some bumps and bruises and was dehydrated, but the docs say she’ll be okay.”
She would be okay. I only had to hope Nova would be the same. Because there was no other option. “Good. That’s good.”
“Found some journals. Got officers going through those now. We’re going to see what we can pull together from those.”
That was good, too. Only I didn’t care. Maybe that made me callous, but the why of it all didn’t mean a damn thing to me. All I knew was that Cora and Travis had caused untold pain.
Footsteps sounded again, and this time, a woman filled the doorway. Her black hair was pulled back into a bun, and she looked exhausted but tried to hide it. “Nova Monroe’s family?”
“Yes.” Brae and I spoke and stood at the same time.
The doctor nodded. “I’m Dr. Jeong, Nova’s surgeon.”
My hands fisted, nails digging into my palms as I held my breath, waiting.
“Nova made it through surgery and is in recovery. We’ll be moving her to the ICU in just a few minutes.”
“Is she—?” Brae swallowed hard. “Will she be okay?”
The doctor’s expression gentled. “We need time. Nova’s body hadn’t completely recovered from her first ordeal. It makes recovery now more difficult. But she’s a fighter.”
It seemed so unbelievably unfair that Nova’s chances of survival were lower because of what she’d already endured. But maybe the doctor was mistaken. Maybe all she’d been through had already taught her to fight, readied her for this battle.
“I can take one of you up to ICU where they are moving her,” Dr. Jeong continued.
My gaze collided with Brae’s, holding for a moment. Her eyes filled. “It should be you. You’ve become her anchor.”
Fresh pain crashed into me. This gift from the person who meant the most to Nova was everything.
“Thank you.” My words were barely audible and covered in grit, as if the inside of my throat had been rubbed raw with sandpaper.
Dr. Jeong nodded. “I’ll show you the way.”
Everything felt hazy as I followed her. Down a hall and toward a bank of elevators. Up a handful of floors and then down another hall.
She paused to douse her hands in sanitizer before swiping her key card, and I did the same.
The alcoholic solution stung in places, my cuts from breaking the glass making themselves known.
But the pain was a respite in a way. It helped distract me from the organ in the center of my rib cage, the one currently in pieces.
“This way,” Dr. Jeong said quietly, leading me down a hall.
A younger man in scrubs exited a room and gave the doctor a nod. “They’re just getting her settled.”
Her.
Nova.
Supernova.
Phoenix.
All those names had one thing in common—they were each powerful beacons of light in their own ways. Not the kind of thing that could be snuffed out easily.
Beeping sounded from almost every direction as we waited, a disjointed cacophony of sounds that grated against my eardrums. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it for a second longer, a woman stepped out of the room and nodded at us.
The action made her tight braids swing. “She’s all ready for you. ”
Dr. Jeong turned to me. “There will be a tube helping Nova breathe, another keeping her lung inflated, an IV, and wires connecting her to a heart monitor that will measure her heart rate, oxygen, and blood pressure. None of it is hurting her. You can still hold her hand, talk to her. Studies show that all of that helps.”
I forced my head to nod, but the movement felt slow and clumsy, like I was moving through molasses. But I kept going—through the sea of darkness and into the light.
The beeping got both louder and quieter as I moved into the hospital room. Nova looked dwarfed by the hospital bed. So tiny. Delicate. Breakable.
My lungs cried out in protest as I realized I wasn’t breathing. Sucking in air, it felt like I was inhaling shards of icy glass. Still, I kept moving forward.
Some part of me was aware of sinking into the chair next to the bed and taking Nova’s hand. “Phoenix.”
Her name was a guttural plea ripped from my throat.
She’d given me a place to simply be. A place of acceptance. Of safety. Something I wasn’t sure I’d ever truly felt until her. And I didn’t want a world without her in it.
My heart spasmed as I carefully lifted her palm to my mouth. I spoke against her skin, my lips forming the words and hoping she would hear them in two ways. “You’re alive. You’re breathing.”
And I didn’t stop saying them until sleep claimed me.