Page 10 of Sweet Anarchy

"Put some pressure on your hand for a few minutes," the nurse instructs after removing my cannula.

I hold down the cotton ball on the hole until she puts a white circular Band-Aid on it. I press down again, shifting so my legs hang off the side of the bed.

I've been given the clearance to leave, but like I told the guys earlier, I won't leave the hospital until I see Chuck.

Blake has been a wonderful connection, going back and forth for updates for me. Finally, what seemed like hours later, he was out of surgery and I was given the okay to go see him in the recovery ward.

"Do you need a wheelchair?" Asher asks, fretting over me as I stand.

"Of course not. I'm perfectly fine," I scold.

He huffs at me in reply but links his arm through mine for support.

I make sure I've grabbed everything before I follow Blake down the corridor, past the information desk to another corridor that leads down to recovery. I assume the theatres are in the middle of the area I was in and the recovery section. I brace myself for a potential argument, but when the nurse at the recovery station desk spots Blake, she smiles and points him to the back corner.

Asher grumbles when I pick up speed, near dragging his sorry ass behind me as I make a beeline for the bed.

The door is closed and I push it open, my heart beating irregularly when I spot Chuck in the bed.

He's hooked up to machines, a breathing tube down his throat. Bags of clear fluid and blood hang on either side of him, and I can't help but notice how helpless and pale he looks.

"Oh, Chuck," I mumble, my voice breaking as I slowly approach the bed.

He's unconscious, the only sounds being the heart monitor next to him, beating in time to his rhythm. I sit down in the chair next to the bed, reaching for his hand.

"I hope you can hear me," I say to him, squeezing his hand. "I'm right here. You have to pull through. I need you, Chuck."

Part of me prays that he will respond or open his eyes, but nothing happens. I can sense the three guys lingering behind me near the door, keeping a close eye on me but giving me space.

"Lee."

I turn around to look at the door, spotting Vito standing in the doorway. The guys move out of the way so he can step inside.

"V, how's Butch?" I ask.

Vito walks over to me, putting his hands on my shoulders. "He's doing fine. He's awake and talking, more annoyed about being stuck in bed. But they have him on some good painkillers."

"And Volts?"

"You couldn't keep that kid down long with all his energy," Vito laughs. "He's nearby, listening to music and playing Wordle on his phone. He's also on good drugs."

I laugh, a moment of relief flooding through me. It's short-lived though when I turn my attention back to Chuck.

"Do we know how many died?" I ask, dreading the answer.

Vito sighs sadly. "They aren't sure at this stage. From what I've been told, there's about a dozen."

"Your friends?"

He nods once, looking at Chuck. "Those cunts are going to pay."

I can't help the fresh wave of tears, and I do my best to hide them, but a sniffle breaks loose. He squeezes my shoulders.

"Chuck's a strong guy, Lee. If anyone can pull through, it's him."

"We need to call his brother," I say. "His family should know."

Vito lets go of my shoulders and goes round to the other side of the bed. "I'll see what I can do. But Lee, you should go home and get some rest soon."

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