𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐬𝐨𝐧|𝟑| [𝟏𝟖+] ✔

Chapter 21

THEO

The exploding sound of the gunshots finally stopped, piercing holes all over the car, shattering every window, covering us with fragments of glass as I shield Thomas. With my hand pressed against his chest, I keep yelling at him to keep his eyes open, that I've got him.

Hearing the screeching of tyres of my next hunt speeding away, I sit up slowly, keeping pressure on the leaking hole in his chest, feeling the bloody fluids squelch between my fingers. I can't think, my mind gone. My actions are all I have to help him, panicking as I try to encourage him to stay awake.

I unclip his seatbelt quickly, sitting him up, one hand grabs the back of his head in a forceful manner, ignoring all the screams near us. "Hey," I shake him with harshness. "Open your eyes, man."

I need to be rough with him, my abrupt movements keeping him from drifting off. I shake him again when his chin meets his chest. "Thomas!"

With weakness, one eye still closed, the other one opens slightly, head lifting, his lips losing their colour. "Run," he said, throat hoarse, his head bobbing before it falls back to the headrest. Groaning and squeezing his eyes shut, he flinches at the pain, coughing up crimson, staining his dry lips red. "You n-need to run."

I won't leave him. Trying to keep my shit together, I ignore him. "We need to get you to the hospital." Fully aware that if we do, I would be arrested, I really couldn't give a shit right now.

"Theo," he begs me, face whitening. I shake my head, refusing, no words leave my mouth when I try to speak, no idea what the fuck to say. Seeing his lip trembling, looking down at his wound, more blood spilling out of his mouth and dripping down his chin, his breathing getting harsher.

"Theo, pl- please run." He grips my wrist, his mouth in a straight line.

I look at our surroundings, crowds of people standing in shock, some with their phones out recording, some running in the opposite direction. It feels like I've sat here for hours trying to stop Thomas from falling into a forever slumber, but it's only been minutes.

Seconds later, four black cars speed up, making the crowds of useless fucks jump out of the way, slamming their breaks on when they reach the front of the busted motor. For a silent, slow, moment, I thought we were toast. The relief I feel when I see Finn hop out is indescribable, letting out a breath when two nurses run in front of him and open Thomas' side of the car.

I've never been so grateful for Finn fucking Coulter in my life.

I had to pull away from Thomas, covered in his blood, hands painted red. I watched, deaf to the words Finn is throwing at me, as the nurses quickly worked on him, bandaging him up and ordering the men to carry him to the back of the car, telling me to sit in the back with him.

I know the young nurse is trying to hold her shit together, but I can see the look in her eyes when they met mine. Fear.

Is there hope?

Am I about to lose my brother? I can't.

Leaning against the inside of the car door, while one of Finn's security speed along the busy street, I hold Thomas in between my legs so his back is my chest. I keep pressure to his chest again with one hand as instructed by the nurse, who's sitting in between his legs, injecting him with something; morphine maybe.

My free hand is holding his head while I keep whispering in his ear that we've got this, we're the fucking Dawson's and we don't go down that easily. I told him to squeeze my hand each time his grip loosened, my blood draining each time I felt him go limp.

I used my shoulder to keep wiping my cheeks. Coated in salty tears, tears that show how terrified I am.

I watch as he's wheeled into the medical wing of Finn's building. I stand at the entrance, breathless, covered in my brother's blood while he's seen to by a team of medical staff, all shouting at each other to do this, and do that.