Page 66 of Love Under Siege

Connor knelt beside me, but I barely registered his presence. “Jacob,” he said, trying to snap me back to reality. “We need to stop the bleeding. Now!”

He ripped a piece of his shirt and pressed it against the wound in Anya’s side. The gaping hole where Lana’s bullet had ripped through her made me sick. Lana’s sobbing grew louder, but I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t deal with the fact that Anya was bleeding out in front me.

“She’s breathing, but barely,” Connor said, pulling me back to the moment. “We need to move fast if we want to save her.”

I nodded, swallowing the panic clawing at my throat. “We need an ambulance!” I shouted over my shoulder to Morrison.

Morrison was already on his radio, calling for backup and medical support, but I knew time wasn’t on our side. Every second that ticked by felt like it was stealing her away from me.

“Jacob, we’ve gotta move,” Connor urged, shaking my shoulder. “She won’t make it if we just sit here. We need to get her to the car.”

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t make myself let go of her. What if this was the last time I’d ever hold her? What if—

“Jacob!” Connor snapped, his voice sharper. “Now!”

I nodded, forcing myself into action. We lifted Anya gently, her head resting against my shoulder as we moved her out of the cabin. Her breathing was weak, each rise and fall of her chest too shallow, too slow. I was losing her, and it felt like a knife twisting in my gut.

“Stay with me, Anya. Please, baby, stay with me,” I whispered into her ear, my voice breaking. I couldn’t bear the thought of her slipping away. Not after everything we’d been through. Not after everything I’d fought for.

As we lifted Anya, I heard a soft thud behind me. I turned just in time to see Lana collapse, her legs giving out from under her. Her sobbing had stopped, and now she just stared at the floor, her face pale, lips trembling. The weight of everything — the shooting, Adam’s death, Anya lying unconscious — had finally caught up to her.

“Lana!” I shouted, but she didn’t respond. She looked like she was in shock, her entire body frozen.

Connor was quicker than I was. He moved swiftly, crouching beside her, his hands on her shoulders, shaking her gently. “Lana, come on. We need to move.”

Her eyes flickered to him, but she didn’t say anything. She just stared blankly ahead, completely lost in her guilt and fear.

Without another word, Connor slipped his arms under her, lifting her like she weighed nothing. “I’ve got her, Jacob,” he said, glancing at me with a mix of urgency and sympathy. “You focus on Anya.”

As he carried Lana out, her head lolled against his chest, her body limp. I could hear her mumbling something, but her words were too soft, too broken to understand. Guilt was eating her alive, and I knew it.

But right now, Anya needed me. And I couldn’t fail her. Not now.

We rushed out of the cabin and into the freezing night. Connor moved ahead of us, carrying Lana as if she were a feather, while Morrison and I struggled to keep Anya as stable as we could. The sirens were getting closer, but so was the fear that we might not make it in time.

Connor laid Lana in the passenger seat of the car, buckling her in even though she was barely conscious. “She’s out of it,” he muttered, glancing over at me. “But she’ll be okay. Right now, we need to get them both to that hospital.”

Morrison hit the gas, and we sped away from the nightmare that was Adam’s cabin. I kept my eyes locked on Anya, her fragile body slumped in the backseat, blood seeping through Connor’s makeshift bandage. Every second felt like a countdown to losing her.

I held her hand, squeezing it tight. “Anya, please… hang on. I’m right here.”

But her breathing was barely there now, each breath so shallow it was almost impossible to tell if she was still with me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Anya

The steady beep of the heart monitor pulls me from the darkness, and my eyes flutter open to find Jacob sitting beside me. His face is etched with exhaustion, but his eyes light up when he sees me. He’s in his Army Combat Uniform, looking both strong and weary. Despite my pain, just the sight of him brings me comfort.

“Anya!,” he says, his voice a blend of relief and concern, “you’re awake.”

I try to speak, but my throat feels like sandpaper. “Jacob…what happened?” I croak, my voice barely a whisper.

He takes my hand in his, gently squeezing it. “You were shot and beaten pretty badly. It’s been three days since you were brought in. You had us all worried.”

The weight of his words crashes over me, but the warmth of his hand in mine is grounding. I try to sit up, but pain flares through my body. I wince, and Jacob quickly helps me settle back down.

“Don’t try to move too much,” he says softly. “The doctors said you need to rest.”

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