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We arrive.

I jump out of the vehicle and hear gunfire. Two men drop immediately. The others try to run.

I fire and take them down, then sprint toward the parking area.

“Smith!” I shout.

“Over here!” he answers.

“It’s secured!” I call back.

He gets up. He is covered in blood.

I rush to him.

“Where is she?” I ask sharply.

“Right here. I think she hit her head.”

I reach her and see her eyes starting to close.

“Jola!” I shout.

I check her quickly and lift her into my arms. I feel blood on her head.

“Fuck,” I breathe out, the pressure breaking through for a second.

“The bullet hit me, not her!” Smith calls out.

I see the wound on his arm. I feel her pulse. She is alive. Relief hits, but she still needs urgent care.

Ice arrives with the paramedics.

“She hit her head,” I tell them as they start working.

I turn to Smith. “You need medical attention too.”

“I’ll be fine. Is she okay?” he asks.

“She has a deep cut. We need to move,” a paramedic says.

“I’m riding with her,” I say.

Someone starts to object, then stops when they look at me.

I turn to Ice. “Make sure Smith gets checked.”

“Go. I’ve got him,” Ice says.

I follow the stretcher into the ambulance, holding her hand.

At the hospital, they move fast.

“What do we have?” a doctor asks.

“Blunt force trauma, deep cut, swelling. Pulse is low. Rusty metal impact,” a medic replies.

They rush her inside. I follow.