Page 65 of Bloody Kingdom

He gave me Silas.

But like they say, it doesn’t matter how much time you have, it will never be enough.

The smile that breaks out across my face is short-lived. The deafening gunshots that split through the night air outside burst the happy bubble I was floating in just seconds ago. On instinct, I drop down, curling into myself to become the smallest target possible. My arms cover my head, as if they will do any good to stop an incoming bullet.

Adrenaline rushes through my blood. My heart pounds wildly against my chest. I’m frozen in place, unable to move as the symphony of gunfire continues outside the windows. Silas upped the security on the property after the incident in the city. But I have no idea if it’s our security team firing their guns at an unknown threat or if they’re out there being gunned down.

I need a plan. Sitting in this hallway is not an option.

With a steadying breath, I call upon all the training that was ingrained in me while working in the trauma unit. I couldn’t let my anxiety and fear slow me down then or people would die. If I do that now, I will die, and then who will help Ira?

Ira. I have to get to him, drag him somewhere so he isn’t a sitting duck.

Staying as low as I can, I run down the hallway to his bedroom. Each time the high heels I wear click against the hardwood floor, I silently curse. There isn’t time to take them off. I need to get Ira to safety and then find a way to call for help. My phone is charging in the kitchen. I’ll find a way to sneak down there once I have my patient secured.

His room is pitch black when I push the door open. Odd since I always leave a low light on in the event there’s an emergency and I need to rush inside. The curtains are pulled shut, blocking out any light from the moon. Something is wrong. Alarm bells go off in my head and fear creeps down my spine, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. Ira never wants the blinds closed, he likes to be able to look outside at all hours of the day. This is one of the first things I learned about him.

The dim light from the hallway only streams in so much, I can’t yet make out his sleeping form from where I stand. The room itself is eerily quiet. This room is never quiet, between the constant beeping of his machines and the oxygen… What the hell? All of his machines are turned off, nothing but black screens sit there. I fly across the room at the realization.

“Ira!” I call his name while I fumble at the lamp on his nightstand. “Something’s happening, we need to get out of here!”

I almost wish I would have left the light off, then I never would have had to see the horrifying sight in front of me.

His wrinkled, weak, sunspot-covered hands grasp at his neck. Green eyes stare up at me from behind his crooked glasses. Fear and tears seep from them. His mouth moves like he’s trying to form words. Nothing comes out but choked breaths. The sheets that were once sterile white are stained bright crimson red as the blood that pours from his neck spreads through the fabric.

“Oh my god, Ira!” There’s only a second of hesitation before my hands shove his out of the way. Hot, sticky blood oozes between my fingers as I apply pressure. His body trembles beneath me, his feeble hands cover mine in a hopeless attempt to help stop the bleeding. How did this happen? “It’s okay, I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay!” I promise him, even though years of medical training are telling me that it’s not. “You stay with me, Ira!” I haven’t gotten a good look at the wound, but it feels jagged as if something ripped through his throat.

His mouth opens again to say something, but the only thing that comes out is a spray of blood as he coughs. It sprays across my neck and face. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I repeat over and over while turning my head to wipe some of the blood from my face. “You’re not allowed to die, not like this.”

As they get closer, each gunshot outside makes my whole body jerk in fright. Is the security team shooting at the person who did this? How did they get inside without anyone hearing them? Is this my fault? I was so busy making my hair look perfect for my date that I left Ira unattended. I should have been in here. If I was here, I could have stopped this.

Hot tears run down my face. My throat burns with sobs that are dying to be released. Weakly, I smile reassuringly down at him. “I’m going to make it better, Ira. I’m going to fix this and you’re going to be okay.”

Desperately, I look around me for something I can use to stop the bleeding. As fast as possible, I keep pressure with one hand as the other reaches for the robe that lays across the end of his bed. It matches the light blue pajama set I’d put him in earlier. He always insisted they match, and I’d tease him about it constantly.

I ball the fabric and hold it against his neck. Not once does he look away from me. “Quin—” he chokes out, blood pouring from the corners of his mouth.

“Shh,” I soothe. “Don’t talk, keep your strength.”

His mouth moves silently as he struggles to form words. “Q-Quin… run.”

I shake my head down at him. “Nope, not happening. I’m not leaving you here. I’m going to stop the bleeding and you’re going to be fine. We’re going to leave together.”

His eyes flick over my shoulder. “Be—”

I wish his heart monitor was on so I could see his vitals, see if what I’m doing is helping him at all. Maybe if I’m fast, I can get them turned back on…

“Q-Quin.” My name comes out as a gargle. “No—”

“I’ve got you, Ira,” I talk over him. “I’m going to make it all better and you’re going to get to see Silas again. We’re going to finish reading the book we started. You’re going to be able to see your roses again because I’m going to stop the bleeding.”

The sobs are no longer able to be kept at bay. My chest shakes as they fall freely from me. My bloody hands shake on his throat as they make my body heave.

The hands that I swore were cursed won’t be able to save him. Even if the best surgeons came through that door, they couldn’t do anything for him. Nothing can save him. Most of his blood volume has spilled out on the bed and is dripping onto the floor and on my shoes. His already weak heart is going to stop because there isn’t enough blood in his body for it to pump.

With as much strength as he can muster, his fingers wrap around my wrist and squeeze. I look away from the wound and into his panicked eyes. “Be—behind you.”

“Wha—” Turning my head, I find someone standing behind me. Ira’s blood still staining their chin.

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