GABRIEL
"Gabe…"
Her voice is the softest whisper against my neck, barely there, like a sigh carried on the last breath of air. Then her eyes roll back. Her body goes completely limp in my arms.
"Audra?" The world narrows to a single point of pure terror. "Audra?!"
I shake her gently, then harder, my hand cradles the back of her head. Her face is pale, her lips are slightly parted, turning blue, and blood from the split lip still glistens. No response. Nothing.
"What the fuck—" My head is still pounding like a motherfucker from the graze, my vision swimming at the edges, but none of that matters. Only her. Always her.
I glare at Alessio, accusation blazing in my eyes. "Was she hit? Did one of those bastards shoot her?"
He drops to a knee beside us, hands already moving over her, checking for wounds. He shakes his head quickly. "I don't think so. No entry wounds I can see."
We both look closer. Fuck.
She's bleeding badly, not just from the raw gashes where the zip ties cut into her wrists and ankles. She fought like a wildcat, tearing her own skin open in her desperation to get free. But there's more.
"Shit, she must have cut herself with the knife," Alessio curses.
"What knife?" I bark.
"The knife she used to cut her ties. She told me to check on you, and she cut herself loose."
Shocked, I stare at him. "And you listened to her? What the fuck?" But then common sense kicks back in. We have more important things to deal with besides Alessio's fucked up sense of priorities.
I stare at the long, ugly gash that runs along her left forearm, straight and vicious. Blood is pumping out in a steady, terrifying flow, soaking through the shirt I bought her and pooling on the concrete beneath us.
"She's bleeding out!" The words rip from my throat, raw and desperate. My head feels like it's been split open by a bulldozer, pain radiates with every heartbeat, but I don't give a single fuck. Audra is all that exists.
"Here—" Alessio yanks off his belt and hands it to me. I wrap it around her upper arm as a makeshift tourniquet, cinching it tight with shaking hands. The bleeding slows but doesn't stop completely. Not enough. Not nearly enough.
"We need to get her to the doctor. Now."
I look around wildly for Brick—he always carries that clotting powder in his kit—but Brick is gone. Dead on the floor somewhere in another slaughterhouse. The realization hits like another bullet. "Fuck."
My legs are wobbly when I try to stand, and the room tilts hard. Alessio reaches for Audra. "Let me carry her?—"
I nearly take his head off, snarling like a wounded animal. "Don't you fucking touch her."
He backs off instantly, hands raised. "My car's outside. Let's move."
I cradle her against my chest like she's made of glass and fire at the same time. Her head lolls against my shoulder, copper hair matted with sweat and blood. She's so pale. Too pale.
Alessio leads the way through the carnage. Bodies everywhere, Razor's men, the Collector's plants, all of them cut down in the crossfire. I barely notice. My entire world is the woman bleeding out in my arms.
"You were busy," I press out.
He shrugs as we step over another corpse. "Somebody had to make sure you'd live. You didn't exactly give me much time…"
He had returned my missed calls while I was already on my way to the clubhouse. I almost ignored it and kept driving. But at the last second, I pulled over, my jaw tight enough to crack teeth, grabbed a burner from the glove compartment, and stepped out onto the shoulder.
I wasn't about to take any chances. Not then. Not with her. I didn't trust the car. I didn't trust my phone. I didn't trust my men. Not even Kale.
He picked up right away and went straight to the point of his call, "Gabe, I'm at the MC's clubhouse. They brought Audra in, do you?—"
"Stay where you are," I cut him off. "Don't move. I'm on my way."
"They took her to Razor's office, Gabe," Alessio said in a tight voice. "This isn't good."
No shit. I dragged in a slow breath, forcing my mind to catch up with what my instincts already knew.
"I know exactly where they dragged her," I snapped, kicking a rock hard enough to slam into my car. "And if you go in there, you'll get her killed."
Silence ensued for a precious second. Fuck. I didn't have time for this. No time to explain, to argue, only to get to her.
But running in blind would have gotten her killed.
"The Collector is behind this," I explained with a patience I didn't feel. "And he knows 'we've been playing him."
The words sat wrong in my chest. Because I could have ended it right there. One order. Alessio would've walked in, put a bullet in every breathing bastard in that clubhouse, and walked out with her.
Easy.
If it had only been Razor… I wouldn't have been on that call.
I would've already had her. I dragged another breath in, forcing the rage down before it turned reckless.
My grip tightened on the phone. Every instinct I had was screaming to tell him to go in.
To take her. To burn the whole place down for even touching her.
But I didn't. Because I didn't trust anyone with her life.
Not my men.
Not even Alessio.
That left only one option.
Me.
"Hold your position."
My eyes locked on the road ahead as I reached for the door. "With you there… my chances of getting her out alive just went up."
"You were late," I accuse him now.
"Two or three of the bikers were harder to take down," he shrugs like it's no big deal.
I don't want to argue with him any further, not while Audra is bleeding out in my arms. I hold her tighter and keep moving until we're out on the street where Alessio's SUV is waiting, engine running with a driver waiting.
I slide into the back seat with Audra still clutched to me, refusing to let her go even for a second.
Before Alessio can join us, I stop him. "Flea took off.
Find him. He knows a whole lot more about the Collector. "
Alessio nods. "I have a few questions for the bastard."
I nod. "Keep him warm. I do as well."
"You got it, brother."
He's about to turn, but I call him back. "And Alessio?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful, remember, the Collector knows what we've been up to."
A broad grin spreads across his face. "Oh, I have a few questions for him too." He looks at Audra. "Take good care of her."
"You know it."
While the driver floors it, I call ahead. "Doc, we're coming in hot. Female, mid-twenties, severe blood loss from multiple lacerations, wrists, ankles, deep forearm gash. Possible shock. ETA five minutes. Be ready."
I press my forehead to hers, my voice breaking as I whisper against her skin, "Hang in there, baby.
Hang in there. You don't get to die on me like this.
Not after you finally told me you love me.
Not after you came back to me. I need you, Audra.
I fucking need you more than air. Stay with me. Please, sweetheart… stay with me."
Her breathing is too shallow. Her skin is too cold against mine. I can feel her slipping, and the terror of it is worse than any bullet, any betrayal, any loss I've ever known. I rock her gently, tears burning in my eyes.
"You're my whole world," I choke out. "My fire. My reason. Don't you dare leave me. I love you. I love you so goddamn much it hurts. Fight for me, baby. Fight."
The city blurs past the windows in streaks of neon and darkness, but all I see is her face, the woman who smirked at danger in a police station, who burned my kitchen to defy me, who screamed she loved me while begging me to save myself. If she dies tonight…
There won't be anything left of me to save. There will only be a trail of blood while I get the Collector. The SUV screeches around a corner, and I press another desperate kiss to her forehead, whispering the only words that matter anymore. "Stay with me, Audra. Please… stay with me."
I never use the word please. But for her, I'd walk straight into hell, barefoot, on hot coals.
The doctor's office looks like absolute shit from the outside, a dingy little storefront that used to hand out marijuana cards before it was legal.
A faded sign, barred windows, the kind of place you'd walk past without a second glance.
Purposefully designed that way. We don't need any walk-ins.
Just in case some junkie mistakes the place for still being in business, two guards are stationed by the front door, discouraging anybody from entering twenty-four seven.
Inside, it's a completely different world.
State-of-the-art doesn't even begin to cover it.
Massimo had this place built a few years ago after too many of our guys got fucked up in regular hospitals where questions got asked, and cops liked to linger.
Sterile white walls, top-tier equipment, private rooms that rival any trauma center in the country.
Nobody in our world goes to a real hospital anymore. Too dangerous.
Doc Altera and nurse Betty are already waiting when we burst through the entrance. Altera's in scrubs, sleeves rolled up, looking calm as ever. Betty's got an IV line ready in her hands.
"O positive is prepped for her," Altera says immediately, motioning us forward. "Put her here."
I carry Audra down the short hallway to the left, my arms trembling from the pain in my head and pure adrenaline.
She's still unconscious, head lolling against my shoulder, breathing too shallow.
I lay her down as gently as I can on the examination table, which is padded, adjustable, and more like a surgical bed than anything you'd find in a normal clinic.
My hands don't want to let her go. I have to force myself to step back even an inch.
Altera moves in fast, gloved hands already assessing. I point at the deep gash on her left forearm, the one she gave herself with my own knife in her desperate attempt to get free.
"I think this one's the worst."
"Hmm. Yeah, looks like it." He leans closer, probing carefully. I can barely contain the urge to snarl at him to hurry the fuck up. My head is still pounding like a jackhammer, blood trickles down the side of my face from the graze, but none of it registers. Only Audra matters. Always Audra.
Betty moves like lightning, starting an IV in Audra's other arm so the universal donor blood can start replenishing what she's lost.
"Let me see," Altera mutters, eyes narrowing at the forearm gash. "Deep. Did she try to kill herself?"
"No," I nearly rip his head off. "She was in a hurry to free herself." Pride sneaks into my voice. "She fought like a wildcat. "
The doc glances at me, then back at her. "Looks like you got a graze too."
I barely feel the pain anymore. Just the annoying warm trickle of blood running down my temple and jaw. "Yeah, whatever. Just take care of her first."
Betty hands me some gauze. "Press that against the wound."
I reach for Audra's arm.
"Yours," the doctor snaps, shaking his head in exasperation.
The nurse sighs and presses fresh gauze against the side of my head. I impatiently shake her off after a second. "Just make sure she's okay."
A memory hits me from out of nowhere, Audra's freed leg shooting out in pure desperation, catching Razor's side just enough to throw his aim off. Enough so that the bullet that should have gone between my eyes only grazed the side of my head. My brave, fearless Audra. Mine.
I reach out and take her limp hand in mine, mindful of the IV and the bandages. My thumb strokes across her knuckles, smearing a little of her blood with mine.
"Hang on, baby," I whisper in a voice low and raw, my ruthless boss mask cracking wide open. "You don't get to leave me. I need you. More than power, more than revenge, more than anything. Stay with me. Please, Audra… stay."
My head throbs harder, the room tilts slightly, but I don't let go of her hand. I won't. Not until she opens those green-gold eyes again and looks at me like I'm hers. Because she is mine. And I am completely, irrevocably hers.