Page 92 of The Devil's Wrath

Finally, he stepped back from the table. He stripped off his blood-soaked gloves and ran a shaking hand through his hair. “I’ve done all I can,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with exhaustion and worry. “Now we wait.”

She looked so pale, so fragile, lying there on the blood-stained table. I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her clammyforehead. “Come on, baby,” I whispered, my voice weak. “You gotta pull through this. I need you.”

The hours crawled by as we kept vigil at her bedside. Gage monitored her vitals and adjusted the IV as needed. Throughout the night, he checked on her frequently, his face etched with worry. The transfusion had helped stabilize her condition, but she still hadn’t regained consciousness.

“Her blood pressure is improving,” he said, a trace of relief in his voice. “That’s a good sign.”

I nodded, too tired to trust my voice. Fatigue weighed heavily on me, but I was determined to be there when she woke.

He rested a hand on my shoulder. “You should get some sleep. I’ll watch over her.”

I shook my head firmly. “I’m staying right here.”

He sighed but nodded as he checked her bandages for fresh signs of bleeding before disappearing to tend to his other patients.

As dawn’s gray light filtered through the window, he returned with tubes to draw her blood.

“I’m running some tests,” he explained, noticing my curious expression. “Checking for infections, organ function, and so on.”

I nodded, feeling numb.

As the hours passed, Gage worked methodically, analyzing samples and taking notes on his clipboard. Finally, he turned to me, his expression unreadable.

“The tests look promising,” he said cautiously. “Her liver function is normal, and there’s no sign of sepsis. But she’s still in critical condition. The next twenty-four hours will be crucial.”

“Thank you,” I managed, my voice hoarse from disuse. “For everything.”

He just nodded, his eyes haunted. I knew he was reliving his own trauma, and now he had the weight of operating on his sister heavy on his shoulders. He came and went, checking her vitals and changing her bandages with practiced efficiency. But beneath his professional demeanor, I could see the cracks forming. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his jaw was clenched tight. He was barely holding it together.

Me too, brother. Me too.

When night fell again, he pulled up a chair beside me. “You should try to sleep,” he said again, his voice heavy with fatigue. “I’ll keep watch.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. Not until she wakes up.”

He sighed, running a hand over his face. “Wrenly is a fighter. She’s pulled through worse than this.”

“I know,” I whispered, my thumb stroking the back of her hand. “But I can’t help feeling like this is my fault. If I had just taken out that bastard when I had the chance . . .”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” he said firmly. “Wrenly made her choice. I’m willing to bet she didn’t think twice about stepping in front of that bullet for you, and when she wakes up, I have no doubt she will tell you that herself.”

I swallowed hard, fresh tears burning my eyes. “I can’t lose her, Gage. I . . . I love her.”

He was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “I know you do. And she loves you too.”

I looked at him, surprised by the certainty in his words.

He met my gaze steadily. “She’s never been afraid to go after what she wants. And she wants you. As much as I hate to admit it, I saw how she looks at you. Like you’re her whole world.”

A sob caught in my throat. I brought her hand to my lips, pressing a fervent kiss to her knuckles. “I should have made sure she knew . . . like really knew . . .”

“I’m certain she’s aware,” Gage reassured me. “If there’s one thing I know about my sister . . . she’s perceptive to things like that. And once she wakes up, you’ll have all the time in the world to remind her.”

THIRTY-ONE

WRENLY

Something tugged at the edges of my consciousness, a persistent pull that wouldn’t let me rest.

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