Page 28 of Not Taken

“What are you doing?” I groaned. I'd lost too much blood. The world was tipping sideways, even though my shoulders were pinned to the car seat, my chin pressed so hard into my chest because I couldn’t control myself anymore. “Eli, what the fuck are you doing?” My voice slurred, my tongue growing heavy.

He was quiet, but I could hear the buzz of someone else on the other end of the line.

Eli started rattling off words that didn’t mean shit to anyone. “Ten. West. Shell. Ten minutes? No. Good. Medic.” He threw a look at me, his eyes zipping straight to the bullet wound, spreading a patch on his jacket. I didn't need to check myself. I could feel the blood dripping through it and running out of my back and onto my seat, and there was too fucking much of it.

“No,” Eli said to the phone. “Ambulance.”

“Eli!” I hissed, but I barely made a noise. Everything was getting too dark. I could barely see Eli.

He threw me a glance, his face paling as I coughed, my back arching at the pain, blood pooling in my mouth and sliding from the corner of my lips.

“I'm out,” he said to the phone, clicking it off and throwing it in the cupholder by his thigh.

He reached out and shook my arm. “Hey, stay awake. We're almost here.”

But it was too much. No matter how much I wanted to hear more about his life, I couldn't hold on.

“You killed my fucking family,” I groaned.

“And yours killed mine. Caleb, the only reason I'm alive is because of you.” He finally looked at me with a wild, hungry gaze, like he would fucking devour me at any second.

He reached for me, his hand bridging the gap between us to press against mine. The blood-stained jacket was so wet it was glued to my hand, but I knew that wasn't why he was doing it.

“Just stay alive, Caleb.” Eli’s voice broke. “I need this to mean something. It wasn’t just fucking for me. It was…” He took a shuddering breath, and I caught him wince. “You are…Caleb, you're what made this worth it,” he said before he squeezed my hand and focused on the road again. By then, the pain had grown so bad I didn’t feel anything but his warm fingers on mine.

“I’m getting us help. Just hold on, okay?”

I tried to speak, but no sound came out as the darkness took me, and my last thought was that I never told him.

I never told him I loved him too.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ELI

“Caleb?” I tried not to show my panic as I pinched his cheek. It seemed to be the one place he wasn't bleeding, but it didn't mean anything when his breaths were so quiet.

Two agents stood behind me, an ambulance behind them. Back doors open, two EMTs hovering, and the only things around us were the yellow lights of the gas station and the whirring cicadas. No cars passing, no one around apart from the attendant sitting behind the bulletproof glass, who was staring intensely at the scene.

The car door opened, Caleb slumped in his seat, and me hunched down next to him, leaning against the open door and forcing myself to not to give in to the pain of my broken arm and ribs. I tried to keep him awake as we drove. It was ten minutes of listening to nothing but him wheezing, trying to focus on the road while praying he didn't stop.

“Caleb,” I said softly, pinching him again. “Fuck, Caleb, please,” I winced, my voice breaking. “I need you to wake up.”

I sunk my nails in harder. Like his teeth in my neck, my fingers could leave him a permanent mark.

His weak groan was cut by a flinch, brows tight as his eyes fluttered open.

“What…Eli…? What’s happening?”

Why did this have to be the first time we met as real people? I had nothing to hide behind now; I had given him as much about myself as I could in that short space we had together to reach the gas station. Maybe now he could see me as more than a ball of rage and hate. And yet, we were both so close to death I had to wonder if it made a difference.

“Caleb, do you trust me?” I asked, unable to hide my heartbreak. I had a minute before the agents would call me back and take over.

“What the fuck?” Caleb choked, barely able to get the words out. “Eli, what the fuck is this?”

“Hey, listen to me,” I bit out. My fingers softened, pressing my palm to his flushed cheek. “Do you trust me?”

He was ruined because of me. Blood oozed from his chest, too heavy and thick to be a surface wound. We used to beat the shit out of each other every week, but that was a far cry from a bullet in the chest.

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