I set out to take a quick shower so I can get back by Tess’s side. When the water hits my body, the amount of blood that washes off my skin and gathers at my feet before disappearing down the drain haunts me. I suddenly can’t stand to have it on me. I end up spending almost an hour scrubbing every available inch of my body until my skin is raw and the water is crystal clear once more.
The shower has decent pressure and I bow my head, letting it massage the muscles of my back for long minutes, hoping it’ll also wash the fear and torment out of my body.
Between the moment where Tess was put into the back of the ambulance and when I spoke with her doctor, I spent thirty minutes thinking she was dead.
Thirty. Fucking. Minutes.
There’s a sharp ache pulsing in my chest. It’ll dull with time once Tess comes out of surgery, but I’m not sure it’ll ever go away. I can’t unlive those thirty minutes or the damage they inflicted on my soul.
It doesn’t matter. I can bear the scars I need to, no matter how deep, no matter how painful, so long as she makes it.
If I was a kinder, better man, the lesson I’d learn from this is that this life isn’t safe for her. That I can’t protect her from everything that could go wrong, let alone all the people who want me dead. That I should let her go once and for all.
But that’s not what my obsessed mind or my greedy, selfish heart have learned. They confirmed what I’ve known for a long time now – that a life without Tess is simply not possible.
I love her and that’s made everything else obsolete. Nothing matters as much as she does.
Instead of pushing her away, I’m going to hold her closer.
Instead of giving her up, I’ll wage war on those who would even dream of harming a hair on that perfect head of hers.
✽✽✽
After changing into a fresh set of clothes, I roughly towel dry my hair and make my way back towards the wing where Tess will come out of surgery.
I stop in my tracks when I find the hallway lined with my crew. There are men and women of varying rank within the cartel, every single one of them sitting in a chair with their arms outstretched and resting on individual rolling carts. There’s at least a dozen of them filling up the passage and at least as many more waiting in the wings.
“What’s going on?” I ask Arturo, walking up to where he stands at the end of the line overseeing them.
Several of them try to stand as I approach, much to the nurses’ dismay.
“Sit back down!” one of them admonishes Lucas, a low level falcon. “The last thing we need is you all passing out, cracking your heads open, and taking up our hospital beds. Sit and don’t move.”
“It was Joaquín’s idea,” Arturo answers, nodding at the man in the question as he walks up to me.
“Jefe,” Joaquín says, nodding curtly. “I heard from the others what happened to Tess and came as quickly as I could.”
“I appreciate it,” I tell him honestly. “What’s going on here?” I ask, nodding at the crew.
“We put a call out to the cartel and asked anybody that has a blood type compatible with A negative to come and donate if available,” he says, turning to look at the scene before us with a somewhat bewildered look on his face. “This is just who showed up in the first thirty minutes. The hospital started having us turn people away after that. Apparently they’ve already collected five times the amount they need.”
A nameless emotion tightens like a band around my lungs, making it hard for me to breathe. I look over at Arturo.
“They all came for her?”
He nods solemnly. “And for you. She’s their leader’s wife. Their queen.”
That band squeezes further and steals the words from my throat. I find myself nodding slowly, repeatedly. With a betrayal and failed attempted coup just behind me, I’m arguably in the weakest position I’ve been in since coming to London. Having the cartel show up in droves like this to show their support and help reinforce my position while also saving my wife is no small thing.
Every single pair of eyes looks at me as I walk down the line. “I won’t forget this,” I vow, shaking their hands one after the other.
When I get to the end, I sit in an empty chair, drop my head into my hands and wait anxiously for news of how Tess did, praying that she survives surgery.
