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I’m helpless.
CHAPTER 27
Scarlett
I feel like I’m watching Lyssa come undone before my eyes as Hadria’s life slips away with every beat of her heart.
The strongest, toughest, best woman I know, has a look of such raw anguish that it’s almost too much to bear. And I see the bond between Lyssa and Hadria laid bare now. Hadria is more than just Lyssa’s leader, more than a partner in crime.
She’s Lyssa’s family. Her sister. And I can’t let Lyssa lose that.
Not like I lost Adam.
I look frantically around the room, my eyes landing on the medical supplies cabinet in the corner. I rush over and yank it open, relief surging as I take in the fully-stocked array of equipment. I grab what I need and hurry back.
“Move over, give me some space!” I order the group huddled around Hadria’s prone form. It’s not just Lyssa and Aurora in here—it feels like half the Syndicate has crowded in. And no one moves a muscle. Of course they don’t—they’re all too consumed by shock and fear to heed my command.
Ricky even shoves me back with a rough hand. “Get the fuck away from her,” he snarls.
“I have medical training,” I say evenly, meeting his piercing glare without flinching. I turn to Aurora. “I have medical training,” I say again, louder, insistent, until she looks up at me, terror in her eyes. “More than anyone else here, judging by the fact that you’re all just standing around staring at her while she’s dying.” I sound harsh, but I know that shock is what has made them inactive, not a lack of skills. And I need to get through to them. To Aurora. “I can try to save Hadria, or you can let her die. Your choice.”
“Please,” Lyssa chokes out, her voice little more than a broken whisper. “Please, Suzy, let her try.”
Aurora stares at me, but then, with a terse nod, she acquiesces. I don’t waste a second, grabbing the portable blood typing kit and pricking Hadria’s finger. The blood on her body would be more than enough, but if I’m doing this, I’m doing it right. I don’t know if Lyssa was shot too, and I don’t want to chance that the result will be wrong.
But when that result appears, my heart still sinks. O-negative. A universal donor—but it can only accept O-negative blood.
“Who here is O-negative?” I ask urgently, scanning the assembled faces with rising trepidation. The ones who do know their type are no help, and the others just stare blankly at me. Comprehension slowly dawns on Lyssa—an A-positive—her expression morphing into one of heart-rending desperation.
“Can’t you just test them all?”
“There’s no time.”
“Can’t you just give her a different type?” Aurora begs.
“The risk of hemolytic reaction is too—” I start, but all I see is confusion in Aurora’s beautiful face. “Listen…I’m O-negative,” I tell her quietly. “I can donate to her.”
“Bullshit,” Ricky says. “This is some trick. She’s trying to kill the Boss.”
“If I wanted her dead, I’d only have to wait a few minutes,” I snap at him, regretting the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth, because they won’t help anything.
But when I look back at Aurora, she’s stopped crying. The whole room seems to hold its breath as we wait for her response.
“Do it.”
I spring into action, sterilizing the needles and tubing with movements that quickly come back through muscle memory from my years in med school. My hands are steady as I set up the transfusion kit, and for a second it feels as if no time has passed at all. Mario gently ushers the rest of the Syndicate from the room until only Ricky, Lyssa, and Aurora remain, watchful and worried at the edge of my peripheral vision.
“Lyssa,” I murmur, meeting her red-rimmed gaze as I gesture to the array of tubing and needles. “I might need your help to get the needle situated in my own arm.”
She moves without a moment’s pause and follows my directions with equally steady hands, her fingertips brushing over the sensitive skin of my inner elbow, raising goosebumps in their wake. I can’t help the slight shiver that runs through me. Because despite everything—the blood, the bullets, the secrets and lies and open wounds between us—I always crave her touch.
With everything in place, I settle next to Hadria and watch the steady drip of my blood flowing into her veins, and then I instruct Lyssa on how to treat the wound itself. At last, I turn to the others.
“I’ve done all I can do. We still need a doctor.”
The instruction to make calls to anyone and everyone with medical training goes right around the Syndicate, but it’s Aurora, her hands trembling, who finally manages to get an answer to her call. And when the person on the other end seemingly refuses again to come, the whole room goes silent as Aurora’s voice raises in response.
“Listen to me, you cowardly asshole,” she yells into the phone, her whole body shaking with fury. “The Syndicate will do far worse to you than whoever bribed you to stay away. Get your ass over here right now, before I send someone to detach your fucking kneecaps and drag you!”
