Page 147 of Beyond Protection
"Didn't hesitate," he said. His voice was rough but clear. I saw blood on his lips. "This time—I didn't hesitate."
"Shut up. Don't talk." I pressed against his shoulder where the blood pulsed. It soaked my hands.
This was what it felt like. When they told Ma about Uncle Graham. When they told Mom about Dad. This was what it meant to watch someone you love bleeding out while you're powerless to stop it.
The realization hit me like a fist to the chest. All those years, I thought I understood their grief. I didn't. Not until now.
"Somebody call an ambulance!"
Matthew was already there, kit appearing from somewhere, hands moving with EMT efficiency. "Move your hands. Let me see it."
I moved and watched Matthew work. Pressure. Gauze.
Behind us, officers had Vanessa on the ground. Her voice carried through the chaos—still clinical, still trying to explain. "You don't understand. I was preserving him—"
All I saw was Eamon's face. Pale. Jaw tight. His eyes were still open, steady on mine.
"You weren't supposed to be here yet," I said. Half-laughing. Half-crying. "You were thirty minutes out."
"Guess we made good time." He tried to smile. Grimaced instead. "Traffic cleared. Every light turned green. The city had faith."
Christmas magic, I thought. The universe bending.
"Bullet went through," Matthew announced. "Clean entry and exit. Missed the bone. You're lucky."
"Feel blessed," Eamon muttered.
Sirens grew louder outside. An ambulance would arrive in minutes.
I kept my hand on his chest. Felt his heartbeat under my palm—rapid but strong. Proof of life. Proof he'd moved when it mattered. Proof the hesitation hadn't won.
"I saw you," I said quietly. "I saw you almost freeze. Then I saw you break through it."
He nearly smiled. "You gave me something worth moving for."
Marcus appeared beside us. Blood on his knuckles. "EMTs are here."
"I can walk," Eamon said.
"No, you can't," Matthew and I said simultaneously.
They got a gurney through somehow. Lifted him onto it. I held his hand the entire time.
Outside, the street was a scene of organized chaos. Ambulance doors open. Officers everywhere. Loading Vanessa into a cruiser, still talking, still explaining.
Snow fell through streetlight beams. Steady. Beautiful. The storm that had knocked out the power was easing, as if the city itself was exhaling.
Ma and Claire materialized from somewhere. Ma grabbed me, checked for blood. Claire stood watching them load Eamon into the ambulance.
"I'm riding with him," I told the EMT.
"Family only—"
"He's family." Ma's voice cut through. Absolute. "He's family. Let him ride."
The EMT looked at her. At me. At Eamon bleeding on the gurney.
"Get in," he said.
