Chapter 14 The Night I Almost Lost Him
The Night I Almost Lost Him
Olivia
Blood soaked through my fingers faster than I could stem it, warm and slick against my palms as I pressed harder into the torn flesh along Vek’s ribs. My breath came in sharp, shallow bursts, but I kept forcing it steady, forcing myself to stay with him.
“Vek—look at me,” I whispered, leaning over him as he fought to keep his eyes open. “Hey. Stay here.”
His gaze wavered, unfocused at first, then locked on my face like he needed me to hold him here.
“Hurts,” he rasped.
“I know, baby, I know.” My hands trembled against the wound. “Hold on. Please—hold on.”
June Bug pressed against my thigh, trembling so hard her whole body shook the floorboards beneath us. Boone stood over both of them, bristled and rumbling in a low, exhausted growl as he kept one eye on the broken window.
Vek drew in a ragged breath and flinched when fresh blood welled between my fingers. Yanking off my jacket, I pressed it as hard as I could against the wound. “Liv…” The sound of my name broke something in me, the tears falling without my permission.
“Stay with me,” I whispered, my forehead hovering just above his. “I’ve got you. Just breathe. I’m not losing you tonight.”
His expression softened, even through the pain. “Scared… for you.”
That undid me. I shook my head, tears blurring the floorboards beneath us. “Don’t worry about me—God, Vek, you can’t—you don’t get to worry about me when you’re lying here bleeding.”
The words hitched in my throat before I could stop them. “I can’t lose you. I love you.” It spilled out raw and bare, more truth than confession, too late to take back and too urgent to swallow.
Even though he was in pain, something eased in his face.
“You love,” he murmured, the syllables barely holding together. “Me?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Yes, I do. So you stay with me, do you hear me? Stay.”
His hand twitched against the floor, trying to find mine. I caught it immediately, palm to palm, blood and sweat mixing between our fingers as I returned it to press the wound with my other.
Outside, engines revved and tires skidded across gravel—trucks pulling up fast, but none of the chaos reached him. His focus stayed locked on me—on my voice, on the pressure I kept against the wound.
“Liv,” he whispered again, weaker than before.
“Right here.” I pressed my forehead gently to his, keeping my voice steady even as fear clawed up my spine. “I’m right here, Vek. You’re not alone. Just—just keep breathing. That’s all you have to do.”
His chest rose unevenly against my arm. “Stay…?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m staying. As long as it takes.”
Heavy boots hit the porch fast, the boards trembling under the weight of men rushing toward the broken door. Boone barked until his voice cracked, but I couldn’t look away from Vek. My hands stayed locked to the wound, heat and blood and panic all sliding together beneath my palms.
The front door shoved inward, catching on the cracked hinge. Mason squeezed through first, eyes sweeping the foyer before he froze hard.
“Gunner—here!” he shouted back over his shoulder, voice breaking. “He’s down—he’s bleeding—”
Gunner barreled through the doorway a heartbeat later. The second he saw the floor—saw Vek, saw my hands soaked red—he dropped to his knees so fast the impact rattled the boards.
“Christ—Liv—he’s hit.” His voice cracked. “Riggs! Get your med bag—now!”
Riggs, still outside on the porch, leaned in behind them. His eyes went wide at the sight of the blood, shock cutting a full second off his reaction before instinct shoved him into motion.
“On it,” he said, turning on his heel and sprinting back toward his truck.
I kept my hands pressed to Vek’s side, refusing to give the blood any more ground. “Help’s coming,” I whispered, voice shaking. “Stay awake. Please.”
Vek’s fingers squeezed my hand. “Stay… with Liv.”
“Yes,” I said. “With me. I’ve got you.”
A moment later, Riggs rushed back through the doorway, a medical bag slung over his shoulder and breath coming fast. He dropped to the floor across from me without wasting a beat.
Let me in,’ he said, voice steady now, dropping straight into the work. “Liv—don’t move your hands yet.”
“I’m not,” I whispered, scooting over just enough to give him space.
Riggs brushed blood aside with careful fingers, leaning in to get a better look. His jaw tightened. “High shot. That’s something. We can work with that.”
Gunner hovered just behind him, shaking but steadying himself by sheer force. “Tell me what you need.”
“Towels, light,” Riggs said. “We clean it before anything else.”
Mason moved immediately, sprinting toward the kitchen. Gunner scraped a lamp from the side table and dragged it closer, angling the light down toward the wound.
“Liv,” Riggs said softly, “I’m going to need you to lift your hand in a minute—but only when I say.”
Fear clenched tight in my chest. “Just tell me when.”
He met my eyes briefly, grounding the moment in something calm and human before leaning back toward Vek.
“Hang on, big guy,” Riggs murmured. “We’re gonna take care of you.”
Mason hurried back into the room with an armful of towels and dropped to his knees beside Gunner. The first clean towel hit Riggs’s outstretched hand before Mason even caught his breath.
“Good,” Riggs muttered, sliding the folded cloth under my elbow. “Liv—on three.”
I braced myself, hands shaking so badly I worried I’d lose my grip before he reached “two.”
“One… two… three.”
I lifted my hand a few inches—no more—and fresh blood spilled over Riggs’s wrist in a sudden, terrifying bloom.
A sound broke out of me, half sob, half prayer.
“It’s okay,” Riggs said quickly, already pressing a fresh towel down over the worst of it. “Saw it. Found the path. I’ve got him.”
Vek hissed through his teeth, body jolting under the pressure.
“I know,” I whispered, sliding my hand into his again. “I know it hurts, baby. Stay with us.”
His fingers curled weakly around mine. Sweat beaded along his temple. The rise of his chest had gone uneven, shallow and strained, but it kept rising. That was all I could ask for.
Riggs leaned back just enough to grab a bottle Mason handed over. “Gunner—hold the light right there. Liv—keep talking to him.”
“Okay,” I murmured, leaning closer to Vek’s face. “It’s just Riggs cleaning the wound. He’s good, Vek. He’s helped half the ridge and quite a few soldiers at one time or another. He’s stubborn as hell, but he’s good.”
Another breath shuddered out of him, warm and damp against my cheek.
“You love me,” he whispered, barely a thread of sound.
“Yes.” My voice broke. “I love you. And I need you to breathe. That’s all you focus on. Just breathe for me.”
The bottle in Riggs’s hand tilted and poured clean, cold saline across the wound. Blood and saline pooled in the towel beneath Vek’s side and seeped warm against my knee. He jerked with the sting, muscles tightening hard enough that the floor creaked beneath us.
“Easy,” Riggs murmured. “I know. I know. Almost done with the cleaning.”
Gunner swallowed audibly, the sound tight and ragged. “How bad is it?”
Riggs didn’t answer right away—never a good sign—but his hands didn’t falter. He soaked another towel, pressed, tilted the light, and assessed again.
“It’s a deep graze with a nasty exit,” he finally said. “He lost a lot of blood, but the angle’s in our favor. No lung. No gut.”
Relief hit me so hard I gasped.
Vek’s eyes fluttered. “Liv…?”
“I’m right here. You’re safe,” I whispered fiercely. “We’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”
Riggs reached for the suture kit. “Keep holding his hand. This part’s going to hurt.”
My stomach flipped. “Riggs—wait—does he need something for pain?”
Riggs hesitated for only a breath—one heartbeat—before shaking his head. “I don’t have anything strong enough to knock out a man his size. And we don’t have time to sit on our hands waiting for an ambulance. We close it now, or he bleeds more than he can afford.”
Vek drew in another uneven breath. “Liv… stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I pressed my forehead to his. “You hold my hand as hard as you need to, do you hear me?”
With a subtle nod, his fingers tightened with surprising strength—desperation giving him one more push.
Riggs glanced at Gunner. “Hold the light steady. Mason—help me keep him from rolling if he reacts.”
They shifted closer. The room felt too small, too warm, thick with fear and the metallic tang of blood.
Vek sucked in a sharp breath when the needle met his skin, every muscle in his chest going tight beneath Riggs’ hands. His grip crushed my fingers, but I welcomed the pain—it meant he was still fighting, still here.
“I know,” I whispered, brushing my thumb along the back of his knuckles. “I’m right here. You hold on to me.”
Riggs worked in careful, steady pulls, his face tight with concentration. Mason braced a hand on Vek’s shoulder in case he jerked. Gunner held the lamp so close I could feel the heat on my cheek.
No one spoke unless they had to. The whole world narrowed to Vek’s ragged breathing and Riggs’s steady hands.
Halfway through the stitches, Vek’s eyes fluttered, losing their fight to stay open.
“Liv…” His voice cracked. “Tired.”
My heart seized. “I know, baby. I know. Just a little longer.” I leaned close, keeping his gaze pinned to mine. “Don’t leave me yet. Stay with me.”
He tried—God, he tried. His fingers tightened once more around mine, then loosened as another wave of pain rolled through him.
Riggs glanced up. “It’s okay if he fades. I’ve got him. He’s safe.”
The words broke something loose in my chest, but I kept talking to Vek anyway, kept brushing his fur back, kept grounding him with every touch I could give.
When Riggs finally tied off the last stitch, he exhaled hard and sat back on his heels. “That’s it,” he said quietly. “Bleeding’s stopped. He’ll be weak as hell, but he’s stable.”
Stable.
The word hit so hard my breath stuttered. All the fear I’d been holding down punched its way to the surface.
I bent over Vek, forehead against his temple, tears soaking into his fur. “You hear that?” I whispered. “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
His breathing had gone heavy—slow, but steady. Each inhale rose beneath my palm in a soft, even rhythm.
Alive.
Covering the wound with a clean bandage, Riggs pressed down gently. “He’ll rest now. Body’s doing what it needs to do. If he needs blood, one of us can donate it, but I don’t know how well it would mix with his own. For now, we will monitor him.”
Gunner crouched on my other side, voice gentler than I’d expected from a man who’d had murder in his eyes minutes ago. “He’s going to make it, Liv.”
My throat closed. I nodded once, afraid the sound of my voice might crack too hard to recover from.
Vek’s hand twitched weakly in mine. I held it tighter, bringing it to my cheek.
“I love you,” I whispered against his skin. “I’m not leaving. Not for a second.”
And finally—finally—some part of me allowed the truth to settle:
He wasn’t slipping away. He was still here—still mine—his breath rising steady beneath my hands as the house settled quiet around us again.