Page 77 of Darkness

His eyes meet mine. There’s nothing but reservation in them, and it scares the absolute shit out of me.

I grit my teeth, needing to get my point across. “Let me be clear, Nerve. You save her. It’s not an option. Save her.”

“Spark, grab the cage. I need transport now,” Nerve calls out. He turns back, packing gauze from the bar’s first-aid kit into her chest.

I walk over and stand above her head, leaning down to look into her eyes. Smoothing my hands down her cheeks to calm her, I try to ignore the streaks of blood left in their wake. “You’re gonna be fine, chiquita. Nothing will happen to you. You have to believe me.”

A fat tear rolls down her face. Her breaths are shallow but fast, her eyes glazed.

I lean down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She’s pasty. I hate the fact that all I can do is stand here, holding her. “I got you, Eva. I got you.” I just need Spark to hurry the fuck up with the transport. “What’s the ETA on the fucking—”

That’s when I hear tires screeching outside the bunker. I clench my eyes, relief flooding through me. I lean down, my eyes meeting Eva’s. “Help’s here, chiquita. Just hold on.”

Spark rushes in with Whiskey at his side. They clear a path, pushing bodies out of the way to get to us. “The cage is ready, Nerve,” Spark advises.

“Your med gear is all inside,” Whiskey adds.

Nerve pushes me out of the way as Whiskey hands Nerve some kind of medical machine. “Sorry, Pres, we need room to move.”

I stand back as they get to work. They hook sticky patches onto her chest, the machine registering her heartbeat as I stand back with Void and Ivy watching on helplessly.

“Fucking hell. I did this,” I murmur as they hoist her onto a makeshift stretcher.

Ivy wraps her arm around me. “You deflected the gun, Nycto. You couldn’t have known it would go off.”

“No, I brought this damn war down on us. If I didn’t give in to Eva and take her to the damn beach, we wouldn’t have been made. All these deaths, maybe even Eva’s, are on me.”

They begin moving her out of the clubhouse as Ivy and Void say nothing to defend my realization.

They say nothing because I am right.

This is all on me.

We follow Nerve, Spark, and Whiskey out to the cage.

Whiskey and Nerve load Eva, and Spark looks at me. “You coming, Pres?”

As much as I want to go, need to go, I am their president, and there’s so much shit happening here that I need to deal with first. Nerve is a fully qualified doctor, with nerves of steel. I trust him with my life, so I trust him to make all the right decisions for Eva. And she’ll have Ivy right by her side. I’ll make sure of it.

“Ivy, you need to be there. I trust you to make all Eva’s medical decisions. I have to make sure everything is okay here, then I’ll meet you guys at the clinic as fast as my bike will carry me.”

“You sure, brother?” Nerve asks.

“No, but it’s for the best. Nerve, you watch over her, and Ivy? I’m trusting you.”

He grips my shoulder. “I got her, brother, but we’ve got to go.”

Thank you, Ivy mouths, then they both turn and jump up into the back of the cage. I stand at the back, looking on as they work on her. “I’ll be with you soon, Eva. Hold on.”

Spark edges past me, closing the door and shutting her from my view. My stomach rolls with nerves. Every part of me wants to be in there with her. It’s killing me, but I need to be club president right now. I’ve failed on that front, and I need to make sure things are taken care of before I can do anything else.

The cage takes off, and I kick into gear. The quicker I get this shit done, the faster I can be by her side.

As I hurry back inside, walking past the rubble, I take in the state of my clubhouse. The main entry to the bunker is demolished. There are bodies everywhere.

Crow’s body catches my attention. He was walking to the bar for a beer, and the falling debris landed right on him. I bend down, brush some of the dust and building crap from his cut, then place my hand on his patch. “I’m so fucking sorry, brother.”

My chest squeezes, remembering all the good times I had with Crow. Of all the shit he gave me. Of all the laughter we shared. He may have been old, but his time wasn’t up, not by a long shot. Now he’s dead, and I know who is to blame. His club president. Me.

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