Page 118 of Vital Signs
Hunter's eyes met mine across the room. The connection between us pulled taut, a lifeline stretched across an abyss. I forgot how to breathe. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, there was nothing there but anger and determination.
"You're right," Hunter said steadily as he stared down at Wright. The words struck me hard, each one stealing breath Icouldn't afford to lose. My vision tunneled, darkness creeping in at the edges.
Wright's smile turned triumphant, victory gleaming in his eyes. "The bag's combination is—"
"But that's not all I am," Hunter said firmly. The sudden shift made Wright's mouth snap shut, confusion replacing triumph. "I'm a nurse who helped people while you murdered them. I'm Tyler's friend who's going to make sure you pay for what you did. And I'm the man who's in love with him." His eyes found mine, fierce and tender. "The only drug I need is standing right there."
The breath I'd been holding rushed out in a sound halfway between a sob and his name. Pride and relief and something deeper, something with roots reaching to the core of me, flooded my veins more powerfully than any chemical ever created.
Wright's face contorted with confusion, then disgust, then rage. His professional composure shattered completely. "You're nothing. No one—"
The crash from upstairs swallowed his words whole, dust and plaster raining from the ceiling as something heavy fell through the floor above. The building shuddered around us.
"Time to go," Shepherd said, hauling Wright to his feet, the zip ties biting into the doctor's wrists. "Eli, take point. I've got Wright."
Hunter was already moving to help War disconnect IVs, his movements focused and determined: all doubt burned away by his choice. "These two can be moved. This one needs support. Misha, help me with the third."
I rushed to his side, hands steadier than they had any right to be, following his instructions as we stabilized the weakest patient for transport.
He loves me. The words echoed in my skull, bouncing off bone until they became a mantra, a prayer, a resurrection. After everything he'd seen: the broken parts, the rage, the darkness,the way I'd violated his autonomy and dragged him back from death against his will. He'd looked into the abyss of my damage and said yes. Not just to me, but to us. To a future I'd never dared imagine. My chest cracked open, ribs spreading like wings, making room for something I'd thought Roche had killed forever. Hunter chose me over the chemical relief his body still craved, and in doing so, he'd chosen to believe I was worth staying alive for.
War lifted the first patient easily, carrying her toward the stairs. Xander took the second, supporting the semi-conscious man. Shepherd hauled Wright to his feet, zip ties biting into the doctor's wrists as he forced him toward the exit.
Hunter and I lifted the third patient between us, his body frighteningly light. Another crash sounded from upstairs, followed by the acrid smell of smoke curling beneath the door. My heart rate kicked up, sweat breaking out across my back.
"Move!" Shepherd barked from the stairwell.
We struggled toward the stairs, our patient's head lolling against my shoulder. "Almost there," I whispered, words falling into the space between us as a promise.
Halfway up the stairs, the lights died. Darkness crashed over us. Hunter's harsh breathing beside me became the only real thing in a world gone to shadow. We emerged into a hallway already filling with smoke, the air hot and thick enough to chew. Orange light flickered through doorways, painting Hunter's face in hellish shadows that only emphasized the sharp planes of his jaw, the determined set of his mouth. The fire caught faster than seemed possible, consuming drywall and furniture with indiscriminate hunger.
Hunter coughed, the sound rattling deep in his chest, each breath clearly a battle. His eyes watered from the smoke, tears cutting clean tracks through the soot already staining his skin.
"Which way?" he gasped, adjusting the patient's weight against his side.
Shepherd appeared at the end of the hallway, silhouetted against what had to be the front door. Freedom beckoned beyond him, cold night air visible in the way smoke swirled into the darkness. "Here!"
We stumbled toward him, the patient growing heavier with each step. The smoke thickened, burning my eyes, scoring my lungs with each breath. Heat pressed against us from all sides. Hunter's steps faltered beside me, exhaustion visible in the trembling of his limbs.
"Keep going," I urged, shifting more of the patient's weight onto myself.
Wood cracked overhead. Hunter shoved me forward as the ceiling collapsed. Flaming debris crashed down, acrid chemical smoke billowing around us. Hunter staggered, pressing one hand to his mouth. He'd caught the worst when the debris fell.
"Hunter!" His name tore from my throat as the smoke thickened, making us both cough violently.
"Go!" he shouted. "We need to move!"
I shoved the patient toward Shepherd. "Take him!"
Shepherd caught the unconscious man easily, disappearing through the smoke toward safety, leaving Hunter and me to create our own escape or die trying together.
With the patient safe, I tore at my shirt, ripping the fabric into strips. "Here," I gasped, wrapping one piece around Hunter's nose and mouth, then doing the same for myself. The makeshift masks weren't perfect, but they filtered out some of the worst fumes.
The chemical smoke continued to thicken around us. Even with the masks, we had seconds before the fumes overwhelmed us completely.
I turned back to Hunter, dropping to my knees beside him. He was still coughing through the makeshift mask. "You don't get to die here," I growled. "I didn't save your life to let you die in some basement fire. Get. Up." I wrapped my arm around his waist, hauling him to his feet with more force than gentleness. "You're living through this if I have to carry your ass out myself."
Together, Hunter and I limped toward the exit, finding a rhythm despite the makeshift masks making every breath a conscious effort. The toxic smoke seeped through the fabric, burning our throats and making our eyes stream. The heat built behind us insistently, pressing against our backs. The fire roared, consuming everything in its path. Wood cracked. Glass shattered. The whole structure groaned under the assault.
