Page 102 of Blood & Throttle
Taz jumps onto the bed and curls up at her feet, head between her paws, growling low. She doesn’t trust the silence either.
Luca’s already inside, crouched near one of the monitors. “Vitals are holding. Still no movement.”
Sin stays by the bedside, one hand gripping the edge of the blanket. Her knuckles are white.
“She wasn’t supposed to be part of this,” she mutters.
“She wasn’t,” I say. “And Jace knew it.”
“She wasn’t supposed to be touched,” Luca says, his voice tighter than usual. “She’s not a racer. She’s not Gauntlet. She fixes what we break. That’s it.”
Bishop stops pacing. “Jace doesn’t give a shit about rules. He only cares about what makes him feel bigger.”
Sin doesn’t look up from Doc’s face. “And picking off someone who never even stepped on the line makes him feel real fucking big, huh?”
“Cowards always go for the soft targets,” Bishop mutters. “They just don’t expect the fallout.”
“She didn’t deserve this,” Sin says, voice lower now, strained but steady.
I nod once. “No one here does. That’s the game.”
Her eyes snap to mine. “That’s not an excuse.”
“It’s a reason,” I say, “to hit back harder.”
Maggie adjusts one of the IV lines with steady hands, her expression tight, eyes flicking to the monitor before going back to Doc’s arm. She doesn’t look up when she speaks.
“She’s holding on. Heart rate’s steady. That’s all we need for now.”
She’s not a doctor. Never claimed to be. But none of us trust the Syndicate med team to actually give a shit—not after what happened. Not with one of ours.
So Maggie stepped in. Rolled up her sleeves, took over like she’s been doing this her whole life. And right now? She’s the only one we trust to keep Doc breathing.
“She better keep holding,” Sin says, quiet but sharp. “Because if she doesn’t…”
She doesn’t finish. Doesn’t need to.
I step closer and rest a hand on her back. Firm. Solid. Not comfort, just an anchor.
“You need rest,” I say. “And the bike’s not gonna fix itself.”
Sin doesn’t answer.
“Doc would’ve gutted you by now if she saw how behind we are,” I add. “She’d be yelling about spark plugs and balance mods while stitching herself shut.”
That gets a sound out of Bishop. Half laugh, half breath.
“She once threw a wrench at me for skipping an oil flush,” Luca says. “I still have the scar.”
Sin finally cracks the faintest smirk. Barely there but it’s something.
“We’re leaving soon,” Bishop says. “I’ll stay with her. If anything changes, I’ll call.”
Sin runs a hand down Taz’s back but Taz doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink.
“Come on,” I say, voice low but firm. “Doc would want us focused on the next race. Not stuck here, waiting for something we can’t change.”
Sin doesn’t move at first. She stays by the bed, eyes locked on Doc’s face like sheer will might pull her back to consciousness. But it won’t. We both know that.
