Page 22 of Victorious: Part I

A small whimper escapes her, my anxiety almost overcoming me as I screech to a halt at the emergency entrance. Turning to face Livvy, my eyes flood with tears, seeing how fragile life really is. Swiping at my running nose, I lean over to her. “We’re here, Liv. You need to hold on a little longer. They’re going to take good care of you,” I promise, then throw the truck into park and leap out. Running toward the building as fast as my legs will carry me, I spot the hospital’s emergency sign ahead.

“Help!” I shout, racing toward the sliding doors, almost crashing into them because they don’t open fast enough. I squeeze through them and burst into the Emergency Department. My breath is so hard to catch I feel like I’m suffocating when the two nurses at the intake desk look up, recognition and horror dawning on their faces when they spot me covered in blood.

“Oh, my Lord, are you hurt? Come with us, dear, we will get you checked out right awa—” I wave my hands at them, now fighting back the tears as I struggle to get my words out.

About their friend.

About my friend.

About my family.

“It’s not me, I need help in my truck. It’s, it’s Livvy Landry.”

Chapter Six

HAVEN

Both of them stall, glued to the spot, staring at me seemingly in astonishment.

“Livvy?” one of them repeats.

“Yes!” I grunt in frustration. “In my truck. She’s hurt bad. She’s been tortured. Missing a finger, multiple lacerations, blood loss—”

They don’t wait for me to finish as the one behind the counter calls something over the PA system. Suddenly, more staff appear from nowhere, rushing past me, out the doors toward my truck with a gurney.

In a daze, I follow them back outside, standing out of the way and watching as they gently extract Livvy from the passenger seat.

“Oh my God, Livvy,” one nurse murmurs, her professional demeanor cracking for just a moment.

“BP’s dropping,” another calls out, already attaching a portable monitor. “We need to move.Now!”

They lift her onto the gurney, a flurry of activity as they secure IV lines and assess her injuries. I stand frozen, suddenly useless as her colleagues, her friends, take over.

“Trauma one,” someone shouts as they rush her inside.

I move to follow, but a hand on my arm stops me. I turn to find a nurse I don’t recognize—her eyes are gentle but assessing.

“Are you hurt too?” she asks, scanning me for injuries, her eyes stopping on my shoulder where there is an obvious wound.

I shake my head, suddenly aware of how I must look—covered in blood, clothes torn, face bruised. “It’s not my blood. Not most of it, anyway. But Ineedto be with her.”

“The trauma team needs space to work,” she explains kindly. “Let me take you to the waiting area. I’ll bring you updates as soon as we have them, and I’ll get someone to come by to make sure that your injuries are attended to.”

I want to argue, to push past her and stay with Livvy, but the fight suddenly drains out of me. Adrenaline gives way to bone-deep exhaustion. She gently smiles at me, clearly seeing my fight wean. She reaches for my arm. “This way,” she offers, guiding me through the corridor to a small waiting room. “Can I get you anything? Water? A clean shirt?”

“A phone,” I manage, lowering myself into a chair as my knees feel like they’re about to give out under my weight. “I need to call her family.”

She nods, disappearing briefly, my hands shaking, my knee bobbing in the chair as I gaze aimlessly into nothing before she returns with a cordless phone and a scrub top. “For the blood,” she explains, setting them beside me. “I’ll check on Livvy for you.”

As she leaves, I stare at the phone, dreading the call I need to make. My hands tremble as I punch in Alpha’s number, the one I’ve memorized since my first day with the club. It rings once, twice, before his voice erupts through the speaker, tense and dangerous.

“Whothe fuckis this?”

“A-Alpha, it’s m-me,” I reply, my voice breaking. “I’m with Livvy. We’re at her hospital.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence before he responds, his voice raw with emotion. “Haven? Jesus Christ, we’ve been looking everywhere for you. What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

“We’re in the Emergency Department. Alpha, it’s bad. They, they hurt her. Tortured her.” My voice falters. “It was Javier Rojas. Rico’s nephew. He is, goddammit! He’s rebuilding the Cartel.”

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