Page 72 of No Broken Promises

Linc laughs, mirthlessly and sour. “Nox always says that if we turn into zombies, he’ll shoot us. But if he turns, we’re all toast.”

“He does.” Parker sniffles while still moving the dirt. “He thinks it’s hilarious.” A heartbroken sob is all that leaves her lips after that, but she doesn’t stop shoveling.

A muffled thud fills the air, and Parker drops to her knees in the hole. “I hit something,” she cries out.

Dropping to my knees, I start moving the dirt out of the way, revealing an old hope chest.

“Dig around the sides.” Dom and Linc obey my order, and I see Jake’s head appear at the edge.

“Do you need help?” The older man has red-rimmed eyes, and the rough tenor of his voice hits me harder than I thought it would.

“Remy?” Parker says my name quietly, and I turn to see her struggling with the corner of the lid. “Remy, I need your help.”

I move to her side and push her hands out of the way so I can grip the edge and lift with all my might. Still half-covered in dirt, with one part of it buried, it is the heaviest thing I’ve ever fucking encountered.

Grunting, swearing, and sweating, I pry it open a centimeter at a time until there is enough room for Parker to get down on her knees and see if he is there.

My fingers crack, and if I am not careful, they’ll break, but I honestly don’t give a fuck. Not if Nox is there.

“You can do it,” I reassure Parker when she stares at me with wide-eyed terror. “If he’s in there, he’s alive. He’s alive, Parker.”

She nods and pulls her phone from the pocket on the side of her leggings, turning on the flashlight.

“He’s here!” she shouts. Immediately a dozen pairs of feet are there at the edge, helping us move the dirt and pry the lid completely open to retrieve Nox’s body.

“Get the ambulance!” Dad’s order sounds out above us, and I turn up to face him with tears in my eyes. “Don’t worry, Remy. He’s gonna be alright. He has to be.”

“Nox!” Parker shakes her son, tears streaming down her face, mixing with dirt and snot. She doesn’t care though. She has Nox in her arms, and silence fills the air around us as we wait for his chest to rise. For him to open his eyes. For any sign of life. “Nox, baby.” Parker’s cry comes from the depths of her soul, and I stand there helpless. “Please, baby. Breathe.”

Paramedics appear at the top of the hole, and I try to take Nox from Parker.

“No!” she snarls. “No, you can’t take him.”

She brushes her fingers down his sleeping face.

“Parker,” I whisper her name on a prayer. “Parker, we have to give him to the paramedics. Let them save him. Please, Parker.”

Parker lifts her son into her arms, his body lying limp.

“I can’t,” she cries out. “I can’t leave him!”

“Let me, Parker.” Her eyes meet mine, and my tear-stained cheeks match hers, without a doubt. “Let me take him.”

She hands his small, lifeless body to me, and my hands shake while I hold him. Chest heaving, I climb out of the hole and carry him to the paramedic’s gurney.

Parker is at my side a moment later, clutching Nox’s hand and crying, while the paramedic gets to work. We’ve worked together for years, and if anyone was working on my kid, I am glad it’s her. Ruthless and methodical, she’s completely dedicated to her job.

I watch as she attaches leads to Nox’s chest and feels for a pulse, all without blinking an eye at his age or the size of his body.

Silence.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

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