Page 43 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

My heart skips. “Vincent… He’s—he’s hurt.”

“I know. I need you to check his pulse. Find it, Willow. Do it now.”

I swallow hard. “I—okay.” My hands are shaking as I inch closer to where Vincent lies, blood staining his clothes, the faint rise and fall of his chest barely noticeable. I press two fingers to his neck, searching, praying.

“I’ve got it,” I breathe, relief flooding me for a moment.

“Good. Now, press down on the wound, as hard as you can. Don’t stop. You’re keeping him alive, Willow. Don’t let up, no matter what.”

Tears blur my vision as I do as he says, the pressure making my hands slick with blood. “Cast, I’m scared. What if—what if I can’t?—”

“You can,” he cuts in, his voice rough but sure. “You’re doing great. Stay with him, Willow. Keep pressure on the wound. I’m coming. Just hold on.”

“Okay,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath as I kneel beside Vincent, my hand clamped over the wound, the silence in the room suffocating as I wait for the guard to arrive.

I stare down at Vincent, my heart breaking with every shallow breath he takes. His face is pale, his body limp beneath me, and all I can do is hold on. “Vincent,” I choke out, my voice trembling. “I—” I swallow, trying to force the words past the lump in my throat. “I would’ve said yes this time. I swear, I would’ve.” My fingers press harder, the blood soaking through, but I can’t stop, can’t give up.

“I love you,” I whisper, the tears falling freely now, mingling with the blood on my hands. “I love you so much. Please… please don’t leave me, okay?”

17

CAST

Present

The world can be so cruel at times and I know because I’m the cruelest thing in it. The fucked up thing is that I have all this power, all this control and people will still die on me.

When I get to the hospital, Willow‘s inconsolable. She’s sitting on the floor with her knees to her chest and rocking back-and-forth. I want to sit next to her, wrap her up in my arms, and whisper that Vincent’s going to be okay—that my best friend, the one I’ve known since we were in diapers, will pull through. But that would be a lie. The truth is, I don’t know if he’ll be alive let alone okay. And that thought scares the hell out of me.

I walk past Willow and make my way to the front desk, where a blonde woman with pointy glasses and a tight-lipped smile looks up at me. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Yes, Vincent Beaumont was brought here about an hour ago and I want to know what his status is.” I say this in the most professional tone I can muster, but my tone still sounds like a threat, and she frowns at me.

“Are you his family? Spouse?” she questions as her fingers clack away on the keyboard in front of her.

“I’m his brother,” I answer because there’s no other correct answer besides that Vincent is my brother. Damien is my brother too, and there is no other option for me to be able to see him or know what’s going on right now..

“Sir, I’m gonna need some identification that you are a blood relative of the patient.” The woman eyes me with suspicion, and it takes everything out of me for me not to curl my lips into a snarl and growl at her.

“Ma’am, I don’t know if you know this, but when he came in here, he had a life-threatening bullet wound. I don’t have time to give you identification to know whether or not he is OK.”

“Sir, I just need?—”

I slam my hand against the table, irritation crawling across me like ants at a picnic. “Listen-”

A light hand lands on my shoulder, and I flinch at the contact, only to look over my shoulder and see Damien with his million dollar smile that he only uses for emergencies. He looks like an edgy Prince Charming, ready to unlace a corset and bring women to their knees.

“Ma’am, sorry for my brother here; he is a little stressed. We just wanna know what his status is. You don’t have to give us any personal information beyond whether or not he is out of surgery or—” Damien trails off not daring to say the words we are all thinking because if Vincent is, then there is no more us and I would’ve lost a piece of myself forever.

“All I can tell you is that he is in surgery.”

Damien takes out his ID and slides it across the counter. “I am not his blood relative, but I am his emergency contact. Is there any more information you can tell me?”

The woman takes a minute to type in her computer and try to find out any more information. “No, but I can request that the doctor come talk to you as soon as he can, Mr. Sterling.”

“Thank you.” Damien nods, and we turn around to see a frozen Willow standing looking at us.

Vincent’s blood stains her clothes, her hands, and probably even her goddamn soul at this point. She’s still, eerily so, like if she moves too fast, she’ll shatter. Her wide, glassy eyes flick between me and Damien, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

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