Hannah did.
“His heart isn’t beating.” My words were panicked and
breathy. Tears spilled over my cheeks in fat drops, splattering Roy’s charcoal
dress shirt. I looked helplessly to my sister. “What do we do?”
“CPR.” Hannah laced her fingers together and pushed down on
his rib cage in slow, even pumps.
“Aren’t you supposed to breathe into his mouth or something?”
My sister shook her head on a sob and kept pumping. “That’s
the old way.” As she spoke, she pushed on his chest with her laced fingers.
I held my breath and clutched Roy’s hand to my cheek.
Everything faded in those few minutes. I heard nothing, felt nothing. There was
no Micah. No Julian. No trial. No issues. Only pure heartbreak. The little girl
who’d suffered the loss of both her parents surfaced.
“Don’t leave us,” I whispered.
Hannah continued her diligent attempt at CPR. The scents I’d
walked into faded until the only thing I could smell was the salt from our
tears, from the sweat lingering on my uncle’s chilling skin.
And then I heard it. Thud. Thud. Thud. Faint at first, and
then stronger, my acute hearing grabbed on to the subtle beating of his heart.
Oh my god. The pulse gained strength and the other sounds of the room came
rushing at me.
“It’s working,” I cried and bent over him to stroke his
sweaty head.
Roy’s lips parted as he sucked in a breath, lines of pain
deepening the wrinkles around his mouth. His eyelids fluttered, showing the
whites beneath.
I focused on my uncle—put my hand over the one he had
twitching against his chest. “Talk to us, Roy,” I pleaded.
“I, lo—” he gasped as if he was having trouble catching his
breath. “Love you. Hannah too. You girls…best thing. Take care of each other.”
Hot moisture pooled in my eyes, blurring my uncle from my
sight. I swiped my cheeks, blinked as many tears free as I could. “Don’t you
dare leave us. Do you hear me? Stay with us, help is coming. Just hold on.”
“Richard.” Roy’s face twisted with pain and he turned to
look at me fully.
In the background—over Hannah’s sobs—Dante’s low, rumbling
voice sounded and it took me a few moments to realize he was on the phone. “He
kept rubbing his arm before he collapsed. His speech is broken up but he’s
conscious now.”
“Shush.” I tried to soothe my uncle, who struggled to get
more words out.
“Don’t. Understand.” His words were broken, hard to make
out. “Black market. Laminas Animarum.”
Was that even English?
“He bought one. The trial…” Roy’s eyes rolled into the back of
his head. His arm jerked, then his leg. His back bowed up as he convulsed and
flopped on the floor.
I clutched him close, pinning him down to keep him from
hurting himself. He stilled, the life draining from his body. The minutes after
passed in a crazy blur. Hannah and I sat at Roy’s side, silent, each of us
gripping his hand as if our mere presence could keep him alive. Dante had found
some aspirin in one of the downstairs bathrooms and forced it in his mouth.
The paramedics spilled into the house and shoved us out of
the way. Someone—Julian—lifted my limp body from the floor and held me close
while the uniformed men ripped open my uncle’s shirt and worked to stabilize
him. My harem of elite wolves—their lethal vibe barely masked under their human
façades—stood guard around the room as if one of the medics was going to try to
take off my head at any moment.
“We gotta get him to the hospital for an EKG—we’ve got room
for one rider, decide which one is coming with.”
“Me,” I said automatically.
I didn’t notice Julian’s absence until he was at my side
holding a pair of flat tennis shoes and a hooded cotton sweatshirt. Clothes. In
a trance, I pulled on the hoodie over my sports bra and followed the paramedics
to the ambulance.
Outside, the cold night air slapped me in the face. Wind
whistled through the trees surrounding the house and my shoes
“His heart isn’t beating.” My words were panicked and
breathy. Tears spilled over my cheeks in fat drops, splattering Roy’s charcoal
dress shirt. I looked helplessly to my sister. “What do we do?”
“CPR.” Hannah laced her fingers together and pushed down on
his rib cage in slow, even pumps.
“Aren’t you supposed to breathe into his mouth or something?”
My sister shook her head on a sob and kept pumping. “That’s
the old way.” As she spoke, she pushed on his chest with her laced fingers.
I held my breath and clutched Roy’s hand to my cheek.
Everything faded in those few minutes. I heard nothing, felt nothing. There was
no Micah. No Julian. No trial. No issues. Only pure heartbreak. The little girl
who’d suffered the loss of both her parents surfaced.
“Don’t leave us,” I whispered.
Hannah continued her diligent attempt at CPR. The scents I’d
walked into faded until the only thing I could smell was the salt from our
tears, from the sweat lingering on my uncle’s chilling skin.
And then I heard it. Thud. Thud. Thud. Faint at first, and
then stronger, my acute hearing grabbed on to the subtle beating of his heart.
Oh my god. The pulse gained strength and the other sounds of the room came
rushing at me.
“It’s working,” I cried and bent over him to stroke his
sweaty head.
Roy’s lips parted as he sucked in a breath, lines of pain
deepening the wrinkles around his mouth. His eyelids fluttered, showing the
whites beneath.
I focused on my uncle—put my hand over the one he had
twitching against his chest. “Talk to us, Roy,” I pleaded.
“I, lo—” he gasped as if he was having trouble catching his
breath. “Love you. Hannah too. You girls…best thing. Take care of each other.”
Hot moisture pooled in my eyes, blurring my uncle from my
sight. I swiped my cheeks, blinked as many tears free as I could. “Don’t you
dare leave us. Do you hear me? Stay with us, help is coming. Just hold on.”
“Richard.” Roy’s face twisted with pain and he turned to
look at me fully.
In the background—over Hannah’s sobs—Dante’s low, rumbling
voice sounded and it took me a few moments to realize he was on the phone. “He
kept rubbing his arm before he collapsed. His speech is broken up but he’s
conscious now.”
“Shush.” I tried to soothe my uncle, who struggled to get
more words out.
“Don’t. Understand.” His words were broken, hard to make
out. “Black market. Laminas Animarum.”
Was that even English?
“He bought one. The trial…” Roy’s eyes rolled into the back of
his head. His arm jerked, then his leg. His back bowed up as he convulsed and
flopped on the floor.
I clutched him close, pinning him down to keep him from
hurting himself. He stilled, the life draining from his body. The minutes after
passed in a crazy blur. Hannah and I sat at Roy’s side, silent, each of us
gripping his hand as if our mere presence could keep him alive. Dante had found
some aspirin in one of the downstairs bathrooms and forced it in his mouth.
The paramedics spilled into the house and shoved us out of
the way. Someone—Julian—lifted my limp body from the floor and held me close
while the uniformed men ripped open my uncle’s shirt and worked to stabilize
him. My harem of elite wolves—their lethal vibe barely masked under their human
façades—stood guard around the room as if one of the medics was going to try to
take off my head at any moment.
“We gotta get him to the hospital for an EKG—we’ve got room
for one rider, decide which one is coming with.”
“Me,” I said automatically.
I didn’t notice Julian’s absence until he was at my side
holding a pair of flat tennis shoes and a hooded cotton sweatshirt. Clothes. In
a trance, I pulled on the hoodie over my sports bra and followed the paramedics
to the ambulance.
Outside, the cold night air slapped me in the face. Wind
whistled through the trees surrounding the house and my shoes
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