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She yanks the med bag off her shoulder and hurls it over the abyss toward me. I catch it, whirling to kneel next to Taylor.
My Taylor.
“Stay with me, my love,” I hiss, my hand shoving rocks and ash off her body until suddenly my fingers touch warm, sticky wetness. My teeth grit as I brush more ash off her, scrambling to find where she’s bleeding from as I yank the med bag open.
Oh fuck.
I’ve found the wound. It’s under the massive piece of stone pinning her leg.
Beneath me, the wreckage of the bridge rumbles and shakes.
We’re running out of time.
My fingers grip the edge of the stone. I suck in black air, my teeth grinding as I crouch down, tightening my screaming stomach muscles.
Then, I lift.
I lift with everything I have, everything I’ve ever been. I lift with all the agony of war and the raw pain of my family’s screams.
Joints pop. Blood flows down my fingers. My vision goes black as my shoulder dislocates from the socket.
I don’t. Stop. Straining. Using every single drop of strength I have left.
She will not fucking die here.
Not again.
The bridge shakes. Someone is screaming. Slowly, the massive piece of concrete shifts with a rasping, grating sound before it finally tips away from her.
Taylor stirs, dusty breath choking from her cracked lips.
“She’s free!” I roar over my shoulder as I crouch next to her, pressing gauze to the huge gash on her leg.
“Get her off the bridge!!” Taylor-not-Taylor screams back. “I have a boat! I’ll meet you on the Elba side.”
I just nod, my mind too focused on Taylor, my hands too busy applying pressure to the wound.
The bridge rumbles and wobbles again violently as I wrap gauze around her leg.
The bleeding won’t stop. It’s getting worse.
“Stay with me,” I hiss as I yank my shirt off and start to wrap it around her thigh. “FUCKING STAY WITH ME, TAYLOR!”
The bridge starts to sag and groan.
We have to go.
Now.
I leave everything else behind as I grab her, lift her in my arms, and stand. Pain explodes though my side and leg. But I don’t care. I lift her in my arms and start to run as the ground caves in around us.
She’s terrifyingly weak and limp in my arms, barely clinging to me as I lurch over a pile of rubble and skid down a rocky concrete slope dotted with roaring fire.
I see the edge before we hit it—the ragged cliff where this ruined section of the bridge ends. Beyond it lie stable ground and the road.
I don’t stop. I don’t slow. I use everything I have left in my system as I hit the edge, lurch, and leap forward into thin air.
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