Page 69 of Piston

They won’t have my fucking wife!

Just as we get to Brooklyn Bridge, they slow down, and I speed up but roar in pain as I watch them move close to the side of the bridge they can get, crashing through screaming pedestrians and opening the side door, throwing my wife’s fucking body over the bridge, then speeding off.

I skid to a stop, dropping my bike, and sprinting down the hill to the river, my eyes on her lifeless body floating as people scream.

I can feel my brother behind me, and without a thought, I dive into the river and swim toward my wife as her body starts to sink. I grab her underneath her armpits just as her head goes under, and swim backward to shore, trying to keep her afloat.

“Hold on Diamond, fucking hold on!” I shout as Steal and Acid kneel, and pull her onto the grass. I quickly climb out of the water, and rush to her.

Carefully, I move her hair out of her face and panic, seeing her lips blue and her chest still.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck no….” I panic and start CPR, pressing firmly with my palms on her chest, counting, “One, two, three, four.”

“Come on, Nat, don’t give up,” I hear Steal rasp as I blow large breaths into her mouth, then resume chest compressions.

Please, please, please….

Blood pours from a wound on her head, and Acid quickly presses the white cloth Perrie gave him a few years back against it as we hear sirens in the distance.

“Come on, Diamond, don’t leave me, not now, not when we’re finally together, please,” I beg before blowing large breaths into her mouth again, then continue the compressions.

“What happened? What’s her name?” a paramedic asks as he skids next to us, checking her pulse before cursing as another paramedic brings a defibrillator. I continue compressions.

“Her name is Natalie Mathews, she’s twenty-four, and she's his wife. She was in a car accident, landed on the roof, wasn’t wearing her seat belt, then dragged out of the car and taken, before being thrown over the bridge. We were following,” Steal states, and I look up to see a Fed on our payroll standing next to him as he explains everything to the paramedics.

“Okay, stop compressions,” the paramedic demands, and with great effort, I lift my hands, and they cut the tee she’s wearing before placing stickers on her chest. The machine next to them makes a few noises before it says to continue compressions.

I do as it states, before it tells me to stand clear, then shocks my wife.

I hold my breath, but the machine states she’s still flatlined and to continue compressions.

I hear Acid curse, but I ignore him and do as the machine states.

“Please, baby, don’t leave me. I can’t live without you. Where you go, I go…” I murmur.

“Fuck,” Steal curses as the machine tells me to back up, and it shocks her again.

“We have a pulse; we need to move now,” the paramedic says, and Acid pulls me back as I choke back a sob, and watch helplessly as they roll my wife onto a board, and then carry her up the hill.

Acid drags me up, and we follow, running to our bikes. I quickly pick mine up and start it as the ambulance drives off with sirens. We catch up quickly, staying behind it to Memorial, while Steal takes the lead in front of the ambulance, ensuring the way is clear.

It only takes ten minutes to get to the hospital, and Acid and I dump our bikes, knowing Steal will sort them, and run toward the ambulance, only to be met with chaos as doctors surround the open doors.

“Natalie Mathews, in a car accident, not wearing a seatbelt. She was dragged out of the car, and then thrown over the Brooklyn Bridge. CPR was in progress upon arrival, but she was unresponsive, coded. Shocked twice, and she flatlined again en route,” the paramedic explains, and my knees buckle, Acid gripping my arm to keep me up.

“Okay, let’s get her inside now. Does anyone know the family?” a doctor shouts, and we run after them.

“I’m her husband,” I say loudly, causing the doctor to look my way. I wince when I see who it is.

“Fuck, is that….” Acid’s word trails off as doctors rush Natalie into a room.

“Piston?” Cassidy questions with shock, her head swinging back to her patient, someone she drank with late at night, then back to me, and I choke out, “Save my wife, Cass, please. I-I can’t lose her….”

Her hazel eyes tear up, and she nods. “I’ll do everything I can, I promise.”

That said, she turns and runs into the same room Natalie was rushed into, while a nurse passes me some forms, and guides me into a waiting room.

I slump against the wall as Acid grumbles, “Fuck me, can this day get any worse?”

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