Page 46 of Kneeling for Daddy
My hands are braced on Alek’s chest, as blood pumps out of him with every shallow beat of his heart. “Stay with me, kid,” I beg, pressing harder against the worst of the wounds, his blood oozing between my already stained fingers. “Don’t you dare fucking die on me.”
Damon brandishes a knife from the butcher block, the stainless steel catching in the light as he slices through Alek’s shirt. He pulls back the blood-soaked fabric, revealing the devastation beneath. “Two in the shoulder,” he shares as he works, his tone clinical. “One in the flank.”
The med kit is slammed onto the counter beside us, Jagger shoving supplies toward Damon without being asked. Gauze. Syringes. Tourniquets. A packet of QuikClot powder that Damon tears into with his teeth.
He works with brutal efficiency, pressing the powder straight into the wounds. Alek jerks weakly, a groan caught in his throat, but even the burn isn’t enough to rouse him from his barely conscious state. Blood foams around Damon’s fingers, but the powder does its job, slowing the gush to a seep.
“Buying time,” Damon observes, already moving on to the next hole. His hands don’t shake, and there isn’t an ounce of emotion on his face. I’ve seen men like him before—the kind who’ve stitched up brothers in the dirt with bullets flying overhead. He doesn’t need a hospital. He just needs space, and right now, we’re giving him that.
Jagger curses under his breath. “He’s gonna need blood. He’s losing far too much.”
“Ani?” Damon asks, without glancing up from his task. “Are you the same blood type?”
I look over my shoulder at her, to find her pale, wide-eyed, and her hand clamped over her mouth. Letting it fall from her face, she nods vehemently. “Yes.”
Without hesitation, I scoop her up and set her on the island next to Alek, her bare thighs falling into a pool of his blood. Her eyes lock on mine instantly. They are brewing with panic, and her lower lip is starting to quiver. “I don’t like needles,” she whispers, staring as Jagger approaches with the kind of equipment that looks better suited for a horse than a petite woman. “Nik, that thing is huge.”
I grip her face, pulling her focus off the steel and back to me. “You can do this, little pet.” My voice is calm, steady, even though my heart is jackhammering against my ribs. “You’re stronger than you think. Look at me.”
Jagger quickly wraps a tourniquet around her arm. Her breath hitches, her pupils blown wide when Jagger jams the needle into her crook of her elbow. She winces, tears springing to her eyes, but she doesn’t flinch. “That’s it. That’s my good girl.” I press my forehead to hers, then kiss the corner of her damp lashes. “Daddy is so proud of you.”
Jagger connects the tubing to the needle, snaking the line from Ani’s arm into Alek’s. The dark red flow starts immediately, his body leeching strength from hers. “Fifteen minutes max,” Damon grunts, already shifting his attention back to Alek’s wounds. “Any longer and she’ll crash, too.”
“I’ve got her,” I promise, tightening my hold around Ani’s trembling frame. “Help Damon.” Her free hand fists in my shirt,her nails biting through the cotton, as she squeezes her eyes shut. I keep her head tucked under my chin, rocking her slightly, my hand stroking slow circles on her thigh. Doing anything I can to pull her mind away from Damon working and the wet suction as he digs a bullet fragment out of her brother.
“Focus on me,” I whisper against her hair. “Listen to me.”
She nods, shakily, her lips pressed into my collarbone. Her body softens against me, her breathing steadier, though her knuckles are white where she grips my shirt.
The minutes crawl by. Damon works like a machine, cleaning and stitching up the gaping wounds. It’s not pretty, but it’s effective. The rough field surgery will keep him alive, and unlike a hospital, out of prison.
After finishing off the knot on a final stitch, Damon lets out a long breath and wipes his blood-soaked hands on a towel. “That’s all I can do for now. He’s stable. Barely. Now, we wait.”
Jagger glances at the tubing still connecting Ani and Alek. “Time?”
“Yeah.” I nod. Gently, I remove the tourniquet from Ani’s arm, quickly pulling the needle free as her eyes dart to mine in panic. She gasps softly, but I’m already pressing gauze to the tender spot, sealing it with my palm and applying a bandage before she can see the dark gush of blood.
“You did so good, little pet,” I whisper, kissing the bandage, then the inside of her wrist. Her whole body shudders, exhaustion dragging at her features, but she gives me the tiniest nod.
I keep my arm tight around her waist to keep her from swaying or falling off the counter. Jagger hands her a bottle of juice. Afteropening it for her, I nudge it toward her lips, silently insisting she drink it.
“He’s strong.” My eyes roll down Alek’s pale and motionless body, pausing to watch the faint, uneven rise and fall of his chest.
The apartment door slams open so hard it rattles the frame. Ani screams as Hawk and Gunnar storm in, guns raised, eyes snapping to the blood smeared across the hallway floor and then to the kitchen where we’re gathered. Their boots track crimson prints across the tile as they rush toward us.
The barrels of their weapons dip as they take in the sight of Alek sprawled on the island with his chest roughly stitched, and Ani pale and trembling with gauze taped to her arm, with my blood-stained hands holding her tightly.
“Jesus Christ,” Hawk curses, his jaw locking. “What the fuck happened here?”
Alek’s head rests just below my leg. His skin is clammy and every breath is shallow. I sit frozen on the island, unable to move, unwilling to blink in case that is the second he stops breathing. My legs tremble, but I press my knees together and try to hold still so I don’t disturb him. I tell myself it’s because he needs rest.
I keep waiting for the familiar flood of anger and the resentment I’ve carried for so long, but it doesn’t come. I don’t hate him. I never really did. Honestly, I hated what he did, the choices he made, and the secrets he kept. I hated how he always caved to what our father wanted, instead of leading his own life. But the constant fighting and bickering with him? That was just a shield, my way of dealing with the fear of losing him. As I sit in a pool of his blood, that fear is no longer just a possibility. It’s a terrifying reality.
My chest constricts so tightly, it’s hard to breathe. What will I do if he doesn’t make it? If he slips away here, on this slab of granite? I can’t picture a world without Alek in it. No matter how fractured we’ve become, he’s my brother. My blood. The only tie I have left to the place I came from.
“Ani, baby…” Nik’s voice pulls me out of the spiral I’m headed for. I turn my head, and he’s there, crouched close, his face softer than I’ve ever seen it. “I’ll be over here if you need anything.”
He stands, his blood-stained hands leaving dark prints against his shirt, and when he touches me, those stains spread onto mine, too. It’s only when I look down that I realize my own shirt is speckled and streaked in the crimson of Alek’s blood.
