Page 64 of Devils Cut

"Stay with me, man," Nate whispered to Killer. My heart clenched at the thought of losing a member of our family.

"Jesus Wept," I whimpered, laying Tempest gently on the couch. Her face was pale, but her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.

"Shit," I said, kneeling beside them and examining the gunshot wounds. Blood seeped between Nate's fingers, and I knew we didn't have much time.

"Corvus, I don't know if he's gonna make it," Nate choked out, his voice shaking. "I've never seen so much blood."

"Listen to me, you stubborn motherfucker," I growled at Killer, who was barely conscious. "You're not going anywhere. You hear me? We need you here."

"Trying, VP," Killer managed to gasp, his eyes fluttering weakly.

"Keep talkin', Killer. Stay awake," I ordered, my hands pressing down on the wound with Nate's, trying to stem the blood flow.

The EMTs rushed in through the front door like a hurricane. My chest tightened, but I had to keep it together – this was on me now.

"What happened?" One of them asked.

"Gunshot wound," I answered back, looking down at my blood-soaked hands, still resting on Killer’s abdomen.

Their eyes darted to Killer's blood-soaked form, and they sprang into action. I reluctantly let go of my grip on the wound, letting them take over. The EMT knelt beside him, pulling gauze from their bag and applying pressure to the bullet hole.

"Getting the stretcher!" the other one yelled, sprinting outside.

"Stay with us, motherfucker," I whispered to Killer, watching his eyes struggle to stay open. He didn't respond, but I saw the fight in him, doing everything he could to cling to life.

"Shit." The EMT with the gauze called out to his partner returning with the stretcher. "We're losing too much blood. Let's move!"

"VP..." Killer's voice was barely audible, pain twisting his face.

"Save your strength," I ordered, gripping his hand tightly. "You ain't dying today, ya hear me?"

"Roger that, VP," he whispered before slipping into unconsciousness.

The blood covering my hands was now staining my soul as I stepped back from Killer. The EMTs took charge, their movements were quick and efficient.

"Fuck, this is bad," I muttered, my voice strangled with emotion.

Hammer strode in from the kitchen, his face grim. "Police are on their way," he announced, tension tightening every muscle in his body.

Chapter 27

Tempest Miller

Iwoke to the sound of beeping machines and a bright light that felt like someone was stabbing my eyes with a thousand tiny needles. My head throbbed, and for a moment, I couldn't remember where I was or why everything hurt so damn much.

"Fuck," I whispered, trying to lift my heavy, tired limbs. The effort felt monumental as if each movement required more strength than I had left in my battered body.

The sterile smell of the hospital room invaded my nostrils, and I tried to focus on my surroundings without letting the pain completely overtake me. I blinked away the spots that danced in my vision, cursing under my breath at the relentless assault from the lights above me.

"Shit!" Corvus shot up from a chair next to the bed, his face a mixture of relief and concern. "Tempest, don't freak out. We're at the hospital, okay?"

"Wha--" My voice was barely a whisper, my throat dry as sandpaper. Corvus grabbed a cup with a straw from the bedside table and held it to my lips. I took a few sips, the cool water soothing my parched mouth.

"Fuck... what happened?" I asked, the memories still hazy.

"Take it easy, princess," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. "You have a concussion."

"Fuck, a concussion?" I groaned, the words barely making it past my cracked lips. Corvus nodded solemnly as he continued to hold the drink to my mouth, letting me take small sips.

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