Page 63 of The Vigilant

My heart felt like a weapon, firing over and over and over again into my chest, a fresh round of pain accompanying each of Tynan’s weak groans.

The pale blonde man straddled the back wheel of the Harley, guiding Tynan’s body back.

“Put his leg on top of the handlebars,” he told me, and as I moved mine, the redhead angled his left leg and arm onto the gurney.

“On three, we move him.”

I gave a nod, the whole of me stiff like I was prepared for a fight.

He was going to be fine. He had to be fine. Miraculously, the doctor’s low count filtered through the fog in my brain, and on three, every ounce of my strength exploded, along with some ounces that hadn’t existed until now.

We moved Tynan onto the rolling bed, and the relief I felt when we did it was quickly mitigated by the doctor’s low curse.

“What is it?”

“Pulse is weak. He’s lost a lot of blood,” he said, his cold blue eyes never even glancing to me as he worked, stabilizing Tynan on the bed. “Rob, I have O negative blood bags in a cooler in the trunk, along with all my mobile supplies.”

Rob.

I didn’t have time to wonder what it was short for.

“We’re going to take him through the garage to the elevator.” What elevator? “Need you to hold this.”

An IV bag landed in my arms, and a few seconds later, he had the IV started in his arm.

It was the sounds that crashed over me next. In what should’ve been silence, there was the track and rattle of the wheels on the gurney. The ding of the elevator tucked away at the other end of the hall in the garage that I’d never seen before.

The doctor adjusted the bed, lifting Tynan up until he was partially seated so the gurney would fit inside the small chamber. Inside, the sounds in the silence were the worst.

The tick of the doctor’s jaw.

Tynan’s labored breathing.

The pounding thump of my pulse.

I couldn’t bear it any longer. I needed to break the sounds…I needed to know…

“Is he going to be okay?” The question calmed the ambient roar.

“Yes.”

There was no qualm—no uncertainty in the doctor’s voice. And yet, he’d still hesitated before answering.

The elevator doors opened again, and a distant corner of my mind gnawed with curiosity at the underground hallway. The long stretch with unmarked doors. The low lights. Security keypads beside each of the doorways. Was this some kind of bunker? Why was it built like this? And for what purpose? What secrecy?

Tynan made a low noise when we stopped in front of one of the doors. I tried not to focus on how his blood had already soaked through the bandage wrapped around his middle.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said low, another rush of anger charging through me seeing the softened lines of his face.

He’d never looked so soft before. Not even when he cooked for me. Not even when I caught him sleeping on the couch. It was like all the stone inside him had melted. And I hated what that meant. I hated that it was because of me.

The door opened to another hallway, longer than the first. And then there was another door, this one having no security feature, as the doctor opened it and wheeled us inside.

His home.

I didn’t even make it through the door before I knew where we were.

I knew by the scent. The stillness of sandalwood and pine—his scent I knew all too well from tussling with him eachmorning—and the sharp aroma of lemon, which was from the special dish soap he’d brought to the house to use.

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