Chapter 43

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SO COLD

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SO COLD

The phone call was a foggy memory to recall and the wait for help was almost unbearable. Time was a throttling hand, and Cole's faint pulse only seemed to get weaker. Panic made me see the worst, the world was discoloured, stained scarlet. Moving him was a mistake, it was common sense not to move – especially not drag – an injured crash victim, but I had no other choice, leaving him in the smoking car was not going to be an option and neither was out in the open. At least here amongst the thick, grimy layer of dirt and scurrying red-eyed rats, he had coverage behind crumbling bricks. He was safe from firing guns and determined men, and yet at risk from dying from his injuries. I wasn't a doctor and I wasn't about to make the situation worse by diagnosing him, however that didn't stop my mind from envisaging the very worst: if not death, then spinal injury, internal bleeding, brain damage. The possibilities were endless, torturous.

The revolver rested on the ground beside my knee, I was crouched beside him, twitchy, fearful, attempting to hold pressure onto his wounds and keep a clear head while throwing frequent glances over my shoulder, searching the shades and the now-menacing foliage for any sign of a threat. My body was wound up, chest tight, terrified. The sound of my breathing was deafening in comparison to Cole's, I wanted to slap a hand over my own mouth, forcefully silence myself, fingers digging into skin... What the hell was I thinking? I was going insane.

The blare of a doctor's siren, and soon the flashing green lights through the gaps between the trees were heaven sent. I rushed out, relieved, climbing up the steep hill, almost tripping once or twice, cursing frantically, desperately back up and bursting out onto the road. James was exiting his car. Other men followed. "Shay," he gripped my arms. "Where is he?" He wore his worry on his face and while it had been months since I had last seen him, he was unchanged. A short, plump man in a far too fitting suit instructed Cole's men to gather his equipment from his vehicle.

"This way, come," I led the way and the doctor pushed us out of his way once we reached, stooping down to Cole's level, checking his vitals, and making sure his airway was clear. "He's going to be alright, isn't he?" I didn't realise I was tapping the revolver against my thigh like a bad habit until James forced it from my hand. My fingernails scraped against the blood on my arm, a returning problem from my past.

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