Page 73 of Edward’s Bunny

Dire Situation

Brian

“Get a fucking doctor, now!” I screamed. “Edward, don’t you dare die on me!” I tore off my shirt and pressed it firmly on the wound.

I ignored the yells around me and focused on my bleeding mate. He couldn’t die, not after everything we’d been through. He just couldn’t. Blood seeped through my shirt, but I kept the pressure on, my hands shaking with the intensity of my fear. "Someone, call for help!" I shouted, my voice cracking as panic threatened to overwhelm me.

The pride members around us snapped into action, some rushing to find a doctor while others tried to offer help or support. Despite their efforts, all I could focus on was Edward, his labored breathing, and the terrifying still look in his eyes.

"Stay with me, Edward," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "You can't leave me like this. We've fought so hard for this love, and we have so much more to live for. Please, don't give up now."

“Brian.” I ignored whoever was calling and continued to focus on my mate.

“Brian. I need to try to stop the bleeding.”

The words seeped through my mind, and I peered up and realized Randy was there.

“Help him, please, Randy. He can’t die,” I whispered.

Randy nodded. “I’m going to do my best.”

Randy moved with speed and opened the medical bag that lay beside him. He pulled out some gauze and replaced my hands with his.

"Paramedics are a minute out," Talon said, panting hard.

I clasped Edward's hand and silently prayed. Please, Fate, don't let me lose my mate. Please let him live.

"How is he?" Walter asked breathlessly. "Where's the ambulance?"

"It should be here any second."

I tuned out Talon and Walter's conversation. Randy had pulled out a pair of industrial-looking tweezers. I couldn't remember the medical term, all my medical schooling disappeared at the sight of Edward’s bleeding chest. I was just thankful Randy was here and had the knowledge. I squeezed Edward's hand. "Don't die," I whispered.

"Did you find the shooter?" Talon asked.

"Yeah, we caught her," Walter replied, his voice a mask of unfettered rage. "It was Amy Borrut."

"That fucking bitch. After His Majesty showed her leniency. Tell me you killed her."

Walter growled. "We're holding her—for now."

The back doors flung open and several officers and paramedics flooded the scene. The paramedics hurried to our sides.

"Dr. Halla?" one of the men asked.

Randy looked up but quickly turned back to Edward's wound and started barking out medical jargon. "Fifty-nine-year-old male, GSW to the chest, pulse is weak and thready. Patient has lost a significant amount of blood, start an IV line and administer fluids. We need to get him to the OR, stat."

Another one of the medical techs moved to Randy's side. "We've got it from here."

"I move my hand—he dies. This is Edward Satchel, CEO of Satchel Industries. He's a priority," Randy snapped.

The young medic's eyes widened, and he turned to the team. "You heard the doc. Let's move, people."

At those words, the scene became a flurry of activity. The medic who’d mentioned Randy by name touched my shoulder. “Sir, we need to get in here to work.”

I snarled at his words, “I’m not leaving him.”

Walter came beside me. “Brian, they need to help him. Stand with me.” He gently grabbed my shoulders and lifted me up. I didn’t want to release Edward’s hand, but I had no choice. As soon as I was out of the way, Edward was surrounded. He was placed on a backboard, wires, and tubes were attached to him, and within a minute, he was loaded on a gurney and wheeled to the house.

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