Page 20 of Victorious: Part I

Using the machinery as cover, I maneuver us toward the exit, Livvy’s weight growing heavier with each step. Behind us, the sounds of combat continue—grunts, curses, the unmistakable sound of a blade cutting through flesh.

When we reach the door, I glance back, watching Nighthawk slide her arm around another guard, snapping his neck with ease. But Javier’s thunderous footsteps rampage toward her, raising his weapon.

Our eyes meet, bird-to-bird, one last time across the blood-streaked floor.

Run,she mouths, before diving toward Javier, the distinct sound of gunfire blasting through the meat packing facility.

My body jerks with each gunshot, my muscles tensing tighter each time, but I push through the door, the cool night air hitting us like a wall after the stifling interior.

I have to get Livvy out of here.

Livvy is my mission,I repeat over and over in my head.

Livvy stumbles, a weak cry escaping her lips as her wounded hand brushes against the doorframe, leaving a smear of blood.

“C’mon, Liv, just a little farther,” I urge, scanning the area. The facility’s back lot is empty except for a few derelict vehicles. Beyond the chain-link fence, I spot my truck—right where I left it.

Livvy’s breathing grows more labored, her skin clammy against mine. “Haven… I c-can’t… you h-have to l-leave me.”

“Yes, you can. Don’t talk bullshit to me. You know better than that,” I insist, practically carrying her now. “Think about Poppy. Think about Alpha. Theyneedyou to hold on.”

The mention of her daughter gives her a second wind. She grits her teeth, forcing her legs to cooperate as we make our way across the lot.

Another gunshot echoes behind us, followed by the sound of shattering glass. We both duck, but I don’t look back, focusing instead on the fence ahead. There’s the gap at the bottom where the chain link has pulled away from the ground—where I entered—just large enough to squeeze through if we hurry.

Lowering Livvy to the ground, I help her slide under first, wincing at her muffled cries of pain. Once she’s through, I follow quickly, tearing my shirt on the jagged metal but barely noticing the sting. It’s nothing compared to my shoulder or dislocated thumb.

On the other side, I half-carry, half-drag Livvy toward my truck, her body growing heavier with each step. When we finally reach it, I fumble with the door handle, my hands slick with blood—hers and mine blending together—before I manage to yank it open.

“Stay with me,” I murmur, helping her up into the passenger seat. She slumps against the door, her breathing shallow and ragged. “Livvy? Livvy, look at me!”

Her eyes flutter open, glazed with pain. “Hospital,” she whispers. “I work there. They’ll know—”

“I know, Liv. We’re going right now.” I slam her door shut, then race around to the driver’s side, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Luckily, the idiots left the keys in the ignition when they came and stole our food, so I crank it, and the engine roars to life. Tearing out of the lot, the tires squeal on the pavement in my hurry. We speed through the night, and I keep glancing at Livvy, watching her chest rise and fall with each labored breath. Her bandaged hand lies in her lap, blood seeping through the makeshift wrapping. But her head flops to the side, and panic instantly washes over me.

My hand reaches out, shoving her shoulder forcefully, probably too forcefully, but I’m in full flight mode right now. “Wakethe fuck up. Talk to me, Livvy,” I snap, pressing harder on the accelerator before we fly through a yellow light. “Tell me about Poppy. Tell me about work.”

She stirs slightly, her head rolling toward me, her eyes glazing over, giving me absolutely no confidence right now. However, a small smile does find her lips. “Poppy was so small when she was born, barely five pounds.” Her voice is faint, drifting in and out like a radio losing its signal. “Alpha was terrified to hold her. Those big hands, worried he’d break her.”

I smirk despite everything, trying to keep her engaged. “But he didn’t,” I reply.

“No,” she manages with a weak smile. “She wrapped her tiny fingers around his thumb… he cried. Only time, I ever saw him cry, until…” she trails off, her eyes closing.

“Livvy?” I reach over, squeezing her shoulder. “Livvy, stay with me!”

Her eyes flutter open again. “So tired, Haven.”

“I know, but you can’t sleep. Not yet. We’re almost there.” I take a corner too fast, the tires screeching in protest. “Tell me more about work. You’re the charge nurse, right? What’s that like?”

She exhales, her eyes struggling to stay open. “Hard… rewarding.” She winces as we hit a pothole, causing her to moan.

“Fuck, sorry! Keep talking!”

Her head flops around on the seat, and I reach out, slapping her across the face. Her eyes shoot open with shock but she glances at me, letting out a small chuckle. “Keep talking?” she states.

I fight back my laugh and nod. “Keep talking, or I’ll do worse than slap you,” I warn, though my threat is empty.

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