Page 106 of Devour

There’s a pill bottle on the nightstand. It’s empty and laying by a whiskey bottle that’s almost empty.

I’m on the bed in a second. I grab her face with both hands. Her breathing is barely there, and I’m not sure if I’m imagining that she’s breathing at all.

“Baby, please. Open your eyes.” I tap her cheek. Nothing. I slap her face. “Baby, I need you to look at me.”

She doesn’t move. Her chest is barely rising. “FUCK! Baby, no. Don’t fucking do this.”

“Priest,” I snap. I don’t recognize my own voice. “Get Dane on the phone. Get the doctor. Right fucking now.”

Priest is already in the doorway with his phone to his ear. I tilt her head back and pinch her nose and press my mouth to hers. I breathe everything I have into her. She can have every bit of air from my body. Her chest rises and falls. I do it again.

“Come on, Saylor. Fucking breathe for me. Show me those pretty eyes.”

I press my ear to her chest. Her heartbeat is there, but it’s slow. It’s too fucking slow. I don’t know how many she took. I breathe into her again. My hands are shaking so bad I can barely hold her face steady.

“You don’t get to do this.” I’m talking to her like she can hear me, because she fucking has to hear me. “You’re mine.” I choke on the last word. “Baby, please.”

Her head rolls to the side, and there’s a faint sound. I don’t know how long she has. She needs fucking help.

“That’s it, baby. Stay with me.” I pull her into my lap and hold her against my chest. Her head falls against my shoulder, and her arm hangs limp. “I’m right here. I’m right fucking here, little heathen.”

I brush her hair out of her face. “You’d better come to me, baby, or you’re taking me with you.” My cheeks are wet, and my throat is closing up. “Saylor, please.”

“Dane’s men are on their way.” Priest grabs my shoulder and makes me jump. “They’re bringing a transport to take her to the usual spot.”

I stand up, cradling her in my arms. I can get her there faster.

“Axl, what are you doing?”

“I’m not waiting.” I carry her toward the door. Her head lolls against my chest, and her arm swings. I hold her tighter. “She doesn’t have time for a fucking transport.”

“Axl.” Priest blocks the doorway. He doesn’t put his hands on me, but he’s not moving. “You can’t drive. You keep giving her air. Let me do this for you.”

He’s right, and I hate him for it. I hate that I can’t do everything at once. I hate that I’m holding my girl and she’s fucking dying in my arms.

“Then fucking move.”

Priest grabs the keys to my G-Wagon off the counter, and I follow him down the corridor. Saylor’s arm swings with every step, and her fingers brush against my thigh. I keep looking down at her face waiting for her eyes to open.

I lean forward while I walk and push more air into her mouth. I have to keep her breathing.

My girl wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t end it all like this. She wouldn’t leave me.

We climb into my SUV, and I hold her in my lap in the passenger seat. Her head is against my chest, and I tilt her chin up to keep her airway open.

“Go. Fucking go.”

Priest floors it out of the lot. I press my mouth to hers again and breathe. Her chest rises. I count to three and do it again. The only thing keeping me going is knowing that I’m breathing for the both of us right now.

We speed down the road. Priest picks up his phone and calls Dane again to tell him that we’re coming to them. The Sinclairs have their own private medical facility with staff at the ready. They have helped patch most of us up when we don’t want the media or cops to find out about the work we do.

Priest glances over at Saylor and then me as he drives. “How long do you think she’s been out?” His tone isn’t optimistic, and I want to punch him in the fucking face.

“I don’t fucking know.” I kiss her forehead. “Stay with me, baby.”

We’re still a few minutes away. I place my hand on her chest, and I don’t feel any movement.

“No. No, no, goddamnit, no.” I tilt her head back and breathe into her again. Harder this time. “Saylor, don’t you fucking quit on me.”