Page 79 of Trust in the Fallen

I run my fingers over her cheek while Elias holds her head against his chest. “She’s too cold,” I whisper.

“Her heartbeat is faint, but there’s not much we can do about it.” He looks down at her, doing the same thing I did just a few minutes ago. “Hold on for us, pretty girl. Hold on, and we’ll give you everything. Just please don’t leave us.” The crack in his voice is enough to force my eyes up to meet my best friend’s broken ones.

We can’t lose her.

We won’t survive it.

CHAPTERSIXTY-EIGHT

ELIAS

It’s funny, I never thought much about love.

When I married my ex-wife it had a lot more to do with duty than anything else. We reached the point in our relationship where it was expected for us to tie the knot, and so I got down on one knee and proposed.

I had nothing to do with the planning of our wedding, and the whole day was just as much a surprise for me as it was our guests. And then I repeated after the priest’s words I didn’t really believe in.

Because to me, love was some fucked up notion about giving your life to another person, and surely that shit wasn’t real.

When we divorced, it was more of a relief than anything else. It hurt more that the woman I tied myself to thought my proclivities were a sickness than the fact she didn’t love me anymore and was sleeping with my cousin.

But as I stare down at Leighton, her eyes closed and skin gray, her beautiful hair matted with her own blood, I understand what people mean when they say they couldn’t live without their love. If I could tear my cold, dead heart from my chest and hand it to her, if that would mean she could keep breathing, I would do it without thought or hesitation.

Because a world without Leighton isn’t a world I want to take a single breath in. She’s the light that makes all the darkness seem insignificant, the soul that makes Wyatt and I seem a little more redeemable, and I don’t want to imagine a second of my life where she’s not by our side.

I check her pulse again and try to calm the panic that rises in my chest. Every time I check it, it’s a little more faint. She’s lost too much blood. Way too much fucking blood.

I want to turn around and drag those cunts back from hell just so I can kill them over and over for daring to touch our angel.

“How’s she doing?” Bishop asks, his concerned eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

I shake my head, not wanting to put the words into the universe. I don’t normally believe in that woo-woo crap, but right now I’m not taking any chances.

“We’re almost there,” he promises.

I look over to Wyatt who can’t tear his eyes off her face. The angry purple bruises are too similar to the ones she had the night she showed up on our doorstep barefoot and terrified. I thought that night was the first night of the rest of our lives. She came to us because she knew she could trust us, she knew we would keep her safe, but we failed her like we have too many fucking times.

Bishop takes the turn into their underground parking lot a little too sharp, but Wyatt and I absorb the impact, keeping Leighton as still as we can manage.

Crew’s waiting in the garage when we come to an abrupt halt and tears the back door open. “Hand her to me. We have all three of our doctors on standby.”

I can tell Wyatt is hesitant to hand her over but at this point, our pride doesn’t have any right being at the forefront when all that matters is saving her life.

As soon as he has her cradled against his broad chest, he takes off toward the doors that lead to the medical rooms while we’re left to climb out of the car.

We’re covered in blood, but none of it is our own. It belongs to nameless men and our angel.

I look down at my hands, and the crimson staring back at me has bile climbing up the back of my throat. Even when my hands are clean, I’ll still see her blood on my skin, taunting me, reminding me over and over how I allowed her to be taken from us.

Wyatt and I follow Bishop through the maze of corridors and into the medical suite that we’ve been in one too many times. You can say what you want about the Legion, but they’re loyal to those who are loyal to them, and I’d never want to be on the other side.

Three men surround our girl. One slices the white tulle and lace, uncovering the wedding lingerie she intended to show Jason tonight.

My fists clench at my sides at the thought, but the doctor quickly cuts it off her too, covering her with a sheet for some modesty.

Kovu disappeared as soon as we got back, and Crew and Bishop talk in hushed whispers on the other side of the room, neither of their eyes wandering to our woman.

Every inch of flesh they uncover is more bruised and bloody than the last, to the point it’s hard to work out where the source of the bleeding is.

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