Page 63 of Killer's Obsession
Blood blooms across Killer’s white shirt like a crimson flood. His eyes widen slightly in shock, but his hand remains steady as he lifts his gun and fires.
The bullet catches Nikolai right between the eyes. His head snaps back, blood and brain matter splattering the wall behind him, his lifeless body slumping in the seat.
But I can’t focus on that. All I can see is Killer dropping to his knees, his eyes still on me, before pitching forward onto the floor.
No, no no no no!
I’m screaming behind the gag, thrashing against my restraints. Tears stream down my face as I watch his back, desperately searching for any sign of movement.
Nothing.
He can’t be dead. He can’t!
With a desperate heave, I roll off the bench seat onto the floor. Landing painfully on my shoulder, I start to shimmy and scoot across the carpeted floor toward him. I have to reach him. I have to help him.
The sound of feet pounding up the stairs barely registers until Chief appears in the doorway, his gun drawn. Dread and Reign are right behind him.
Chief’s eyes immediately drop to Killer’s prone form, and they widen in horror. “FUCK!”
All three men rush forward. Chief and Reign roll Killer onto his back, and I get a clear view of the blood-soaked shirt, the ashen color of his face.
“He’s not breathing,” Dread says, his voice tight with panic. “Fuck! What do we do? We can’t stay here!”
Chief immediately starts CPR, his massive hands pumping up and down on Killer’s chest. “Don’t you fucking die on me!” he shouts, his voice raw. “Do you hear me, asshole? Don’t you fucking die!”
Dread moves to me, pulling out a knife to cut through my zip ties. My wrists burn as the blood rushes back into my hands. He pulls the gag from my mouth, and I gulp in air, sobs wracking my body.
As soon as I’m free, I crawl closer to Killer, staying out of Chief’s way as he continues compressions.
“This is all my fault,” I choke out, watching Chief work. “If I hadn’t left?—”
Morpheus appears in the doorway of the plane, his expression shifting from triumph to horror as he takes in the scene. “Holy shit. We gotta move him. Now.”
Reign is already on his phone. “Get the truck to the plane. We have a man down. MOVE!”
Chief doesn’t stop compressions as he barks out orders. “Dread, help me carry him. Reign, you take over CPR in the truck. We’re not letting him die, you hear me?”
They work fast, lifting Killer’s limp body off the floor. He looks so vulnerable in their arms, so unlike the powerful, invincible man I’ve come to know. They carry him carefully but quickly down the stairs of the plane.
I follow, my legs shaky beneath me. A black truck with tinted windows is already waiting on the tarmac, its engine running.
They roughly heft Killer’s body into the truck bed. Reign jumps in and immediately resumes CPR.
“Get in,” Morpheus orders, grabbing my arm and steering me toward the passenger side door.
I climb in, my whole body trembling as Morpheus slides behind the wheel. The tires squeal as we peel away from the plane, sirens from the far side of the airfield growing fainter as we race toward the hospital.
“This is all my fault,” I whisper, staring at my hands. “He’s going to die because of me.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Morpheus snaps, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “He’s not going to die. He’s too goddamn stubborn to die.”
I press my hands to my mouth, tasting salt and copper as I try to muffle my sobs. Please be right. Please be right.
The drive to the hospital feels endless. Morpheus runs every red light, the truck’s engine roaring as he keeps his foot on the gas.
“Hold on!” Morpheus shouts as he screeches to a halt at the emergency entrance. I throw open the passenger door as Chief is leaping out of the truck bed. “WE NEED HELP!” he bellows, his voice echoing off the concrete walls.
Hospital staff pour out the automatic doors, pushing a gurney.
