Page 126 of Power
Something he had said … how he wasn’t the one driving … it should have mattered, but I realized in that moment that I would havelooked past any wrong he had ever done. I would still choose to be with him. I would surrender everything to him forever if he just didn’t leave me.
“The helicopter landed!” someone called out, voice cutting through the chaos.
“I want to go with him,” I said, rising on unsteady legs, my shirt and neck and hands stained with sticky blood.
“You can’t,” the paramedic replied.
“Where are you taking him?” I managed.
“We’re airlifting him to Mercy Harbor.”
Mercy Harbor. A level-one trauma center. The hospital where Blake, an emergency room doctor, worked.
Thank God for small mercies.
Then, I watched with horror, as the paramedics ran—actually ran—with Jace’s lifeless body, rushing toward his only hope of survival.
Move, Scarlett. Move.
I snatched up my fallen phone with blood-slicked fingers and began running down the hall, abandoning my remaining heel as I sprinted toward the stairs toward the parking lot, grateful I’d driven here today rather than taken public transportation like I normally did to avoid traffic. If I hadn’t had to stop at the police station this morning, I wouldn’t have my car here.
With trembling fingers, I dialed the number Tessa had given me.
“Scarlett?” Blake answered on the first ring, his voice cautious.
“I—” I choked over my tears, chiding myself for wasting precious seconds.
“Scarlett, what’s wrong?” Alarm had replaced caution.
“Are you at the hospital?” I managed.
“I just arrived. Why?”
“It’s Jace,” I cried, the words finally breaking free. “A medical helicopter is taking him to Mercy Harbor right now. His jugular’s been cut. Please, Blake—please save him.”
65
SCARLETT
I charged through the doors of the emergency room, delirious with panic. It had taken an eternity to get here, Chicago’s unforgiving traffic conspiring against me at every turn. Luckily, there was no one in line at registration, so I ran right up to the desk, the woman’s eyes widening at my bloody mess of an appearance.
“Nurse!” she shouted, half rising from her chair.
“I’m not bleeding,” I assured her, holding up my hands. “This isn’t my blood.”
Her gaze swept over me again, not looking convinced in the least. For all she knew, I could be in shock, not registering my injuries.
“We should check you out to be sure,” she insisted, reaching for the phone.
“I’m not hurt.” I fought to keep my voice steady. “I just need to know if Jace Lockwood arrived. If he’s … is he here? Is he alive?”
“Ma’am, I’m going to have our triage team check you out.”
“I’m fine!” My voice rose, desperation clawing at my throat. “Please, I don’t have time for this. Can you tell me if a patient named Jace Lockwood is here?” I pressed my palms against the counter, the blood long dried or it would have left crimsonsmudges. “He should be here.” Then again, what if the helicopter changed course for some reason? “Can you tell me if he’s okay?”
I was causing a scene. Whispered conversations in the waiting room had come to a hush, and I could feel eyes boring into my back.
Despite my pleas, a nurse materialized and attempted to usher me away. I stepped back, refusing.
