Page 104 of Shadows of Recovery

Tristan’s expression softened, his gaze steady and filled with resolve. "The baby is innocent, Emma. We need to do everything we can."

Without wasting another moment, he quickly examined her, his movements swift but gentle. He then turned to Nathan, his tone firm and commanding. "Find a tray marked 'C-section.' I know your brother stole one. And bring Kay back in here. You need my help, Nathan. I don’t think you want that much blood on your hands if you don’t accept it."

Nathan hesitated for only a second before nodding, the gravity of the situation clear in his eyes. As he left to gather supplies, Tristan knelt beside the scattered pile of meds on the floor, his hands moving with precision as he located what he needed for an epidural.

He glanced at the pale, trembling nurse beside him. "Find me a spinal needle and skin disinfectant. Now."

The team moved swiftly, gathering everything necessary for the procedure. Tristan’s heart pounded, but he forced himself to focus, his hands steady as he prepared. Moments later, they wheeled Kay back into the room on a stretcher, her skin alarmingly pale.

Tristan’s breath caught in his throat as he walked over to her, his gloved hands gently lifting her bandages. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, the room seemed to pause.

"Hey, Kay..." Tristan’s voice was soft, almost a whisper.

"Tristan," Kay whispered back, a faint smile touching her lips despite the pain.

"It's going to be okay," he reassured her, his voice filled with a quiet strength. He instructed the nurse to hang an antibiotic and increase the fluids, his mind racing with everything that needed to be done.

Sophie’s voice cut through his thoughts, laced with concern. "We have no anesthesia."

Tristan didn’t hesitate. "Get me another epidural setup for Kay." He sighed, the situation pressing down on him, but he forced himself to turn back to Emma. "Okay, sweetheart, let’s deliver this baby." He pointed to two of the women nearby. "We need to get her on her side."

Despite the overwhelming stress, Tristan worked methodically, his brow damp with sweat. He could feel Sophie’s eyes on him, silently pleading to be allowed to help, but he pressed on, knowing time was of the essence. He scrubbed in and started the epidural, every second feeling like an eternity.

Fifteen minutes later, Emma’s pain was significantly reduced, and Tristan moved quickly, scrubbing and gloving up for the delivery. Sophie covered Emma’s abdomen with disinfectant, the sharp smell triggering a flashback that made her wobble. But Tristan’s voice was there, strong and grounding. "Soph, breathe. You’re safe with me."

Sophie closed her eyes for a brief moment, drawing strength from his words, then nodded. "I'm okay."

Another eight minutes passed, and then, like a beacon of hope piercing through the darkness, a throaty baby cry filled the room. "Emma, you have a little boy," Tristan announced, his voice thick with relief and a flicker of joy.

He quickly closed and bandaged Emma’s incision, then directed Eleanor to monitor both Emma and the baby. But there was no time to rest.

He turned to Kay, his eyes hardening with determination. "We don't have blood. I’m going to have to do meatball surgery—get in, get the bullet, and close any bleeds. When we’re out of here, you’ll need real surgery."

Kay’s hand, trembling but strong, reached up and squeezed his. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Tristan, though exhausted and in pain himself, forced his body to move, preparing for the makeshift surgery. His hands moved with accuracy, his focus unwavering, as if sheer willpower alone could keep him upright. Sophie stood by his side, the two of them working together seamlessly.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the bullet was removed, and Kay’s bleeding was controlled. Tristan stepped back, his body trembling with exhaustion, his vision swimming. He looked at Sophie, his eyes filled with gratitude and the faintest glimmer of triumph. "We did it," he murmured, his voice rough.

Sophie managed a tired smile, her own relief palpable. "Yes, we did."

But the moment of reprieve was short-lived. As soon as Emma, the baby, and Kay were stable, Tristan was grabbed roughly by the guards, his body too weak to resist. They dragged him away, his exhausted mind barely registering the cold iron bars as they threw him back into his cell. His body slumped to the ground, every muscle screaming in protest, but his thoughts were only of Sophie and the others, praying they would survive until help could come.

* * *

While the negotiations dragged on,Tristan’s condition worsened in the cold cell. The open wounds from the caning grew infected, and he was attacked by fleas, leading to a Yersinia pestis infection. His body weakened, and his fever increased, making him gravely ill.

Nathan arrived in Tristan’s cell alerted by two of the brothers. He toed his ribs. “Blackwell?”

Tristan greeted him with a groan.

"He was okay a couple of hours ago," Nathan said.

"Bad enough Damon killed people, but c'mon, Nathan, do something. You're going to be in charge soon. You know Dad has limited time," Eli said.

Nathan leaned down. "Blackwell, I only wanted to punish you, not kill you. Get him to the doc," he ordered.

* * *

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