Page 114 of Fight for You

She's bleeding heavily from a single gunshot wound to the abdomen.

"He's gone," she says, her voice trembling. Her lips curve up in a smile as she reaches up to touch my face.

I sob her name, stumbling to my feet with her in my arms. I try to use my hand to staunch the flow of blood, but it's useless. Just like with Titan, there's too much of it.

I can’t let her die, too.

I can’t fucking lose her.

But I can't stop it.

I can’t fucking stop it.

I had to watch my best friend die. And now I'm going to have to watch the only girl I'll ever love die, too. And just like then, there isn’t a goddamn thing I can do to stop it.

"I love you," she whispers weakly, those three words piercing my soul, before she goes limp in my arms.

I feel my soul being torn from my body, rage and grief consuming me. I clutch her to me, a futile attempt to hold onto the only thing that ever made me whole, as my scream echoes through the room in a primal roar of anguish and despair.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Cade

Ipace through the waiting room like a caged animal. People keep trying to talk to me. They keep telling me to sit down or asking what happened or if I need anything. They're trying to help, but I just snarl at all of them until they back off and leave me alone. I'm losing my mind. I can't fucking breathe through the fear choking me.

I'm covered in January's blood. It's all over me. Someone forced me to put on a shirt and a pair of scrub pants, but I don't remember who or when. Roman tried to convince me to go wash up, but I just snarled at him until he left me alone.

A few minutes later, he came back with a wet towel and handed it to me. I wiped off what I could, but her blood is still all over me. Every time I see it, my stomach roils and churns.

It feels like it's been at least four damn years since two paramedics took her from my arms. I don't even know if she's alive.

"God," I groan, swaying on my feet. My knees start to buckle, but someone grabs me before I hit the floor.

"I've got you," Roman murmurs, holding my weight because my legs can't support it anymore. He wraps an arm around my waist and hauls me upright. Someone else grabs my other arm and assists him with dragging me to a chair.

I drop heavily into it and then slump forward, putting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. The floor blurs as tears fill my eyes, but I don't let them fall.

I just need someone to tell me that she's okay. That's all I'm asking for, but I guess God isn't doing motherfuckers like me favors right now because no one will tell me a goddamn thing. They just keep telling me that someone will be out to speak to me soon.

Soon isn't now.

It was supposed to be me. He was supposed to take me, not her.

Please, God. I know I don't have a right to ask you for anything, but I'm asking anyway. Please don't take her from me. I need her. I can't breathe without her. I ca–

"Back off, Hernandez," Santiago growls, pulling my attention away from my pathetic attempt at a prayer.

I lift my head to find Santiago standing at the entrance to the waiting room, one arm blocking the door frame, barring Hernandez from entering. Roman steps up beside him and crosses his massive arms over his chest, helping Santiago keep Hernandez away from me. Hernandez doesn't even look at them, though. His dark eyes are focused solely on me, empathy written across his face.

Seeing him standing there shakes loose some emotion other than fear.

"Let him come," I mutter.

Santiago peers over his shoulder at me, clearly hesitant to let him in.

"Let him come," I say again, holding Hernandez's gaze.

"Fuck," Santiago curses and then steps aside, allowing Hernandez to brush past him.