Blood was running down his shoulder and leg, but he was still on his feet, smiling away.
"Hazard King," Alpha said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Not so tough now, huh?"
He raised the gun higher, pointing it straight at Aylin.
"You should’ve just stayed in the van, girl."
Aylin felt frozen; she couldn’t move, reach for her weapon, or do anything but hold Zayden and wait for the shot to co.
Alpha’s finger was tightening on the trigger.
Then.....
A gunshot rang out.
It was loud.
Really close.
But it didn’t co from Alpha’s gun.
Alpha flinched and looked down, shocked by the blood spreading on his side. He turned to find Azalea standing about twenty feet away, gun up, blood soaking her shoulder, her face pale but her eyes sharp and deadly.
"Get away from them," Azalea ordered.
Alpha tried to aim at her, but Azalea shot again, hitting his hand—the gun flew out of his grip and clattered on the pavent.
Alpha stumbled back.
Aylin quickly grabbed her weapon, getting to her feet and aiming at him.
Then it hit Alpha, and he realized he was surrounded, unard, and bleeding badly. He was done for.
"Wait—" he started, holding up his hands to give up. "Wait, we can—"
Aylin pulled the trigger at the sa ti Azalea did.
Their guns roared together, bullets ripping into him again and again.
He lurched with every hit, stumbling back like a puppet before dropping to his knees and then face-first onto the pavent.
He stopped moving.
Dead.
Aylin lowered her weapon, her hands shaking, and dropped to her knees beside Zayden.
"Zayden. Zayden, can you hear ?"
Azalea was limping over, holding her shoulder, but she was still moving.
She crouched down next to her brother and pulled off his mask. Zayden looked pale, his lips had a blue tint, and his eyes were barely open.
But he was still breathing.
Just barely.
Azalea felt for a pulse on his neck.
"It’s there," she said. "Weak, but it’s there."
She took a quick look at the chest wound. The vest had stopped so of the impact, but not enough. The bullet had gone in, not in the center, but a bit to the left. It might’ve missed the heart. Or it might not have. Azalea couldn’t be sure.
She got her phone out and called for ergency services. "This is Dr. Azalea Virelli. I need an ambulance at the Silk Fla Auction Hall. Gunshot wound to the chest. Male, late twenties, in critical condition. NOW!"
She hung up and glanced at Aylin.
Aylin was crying, her hands pressed against Zayden’s chest, blood everywhere.
"He saved ," Aylin whispered. "He pushed out of the way. He—"
Her voice wavered. She leaned down and rested her forehead against his.
This is my fault.
He’s dying because of .
"Don’t you dare die," she said. "Don’t leave . I need you. We all need you. Please, please stay."
Zayden’s eyes flickered open a bit, focusing on her face. His lips moved, but no sound ca out.
Aylin could see what he was trying to say I love you.
Tears stread down her face. "I love you too. So much. Just stay. Please stay."
His eyes closed again.
Azalea pressed down on Zayden’s wound. "Where’s the ambulance?"
Just then, sirens blared in the distance.
They were getting closer.
Flashing red and blue lights appeared as an ambulance pulled into the parking lot, followed by police cars and more ambulances, the backup Zayden had called for.
Paradics jumped out and hurried over with a stretcher.
"Gunshot wound to the chest," Azalea told them. Her voice was all business. "His pulse is weak. He’s breathing shallow. He needs surgery. Right now."
They put Zayden on the stretcher and quickly started an IV while putting an oxygen mask on him.
Aylin tried to go with them, but a paradic stopped her. "Are you family?"
"I’m his—" Aylin struggled to find the right words.
What was she? Girlfriend? Partner?
Not his wife. Not officially family.
Azalea stepped in beside her. "I’m his sister. She’s his fiancée. We’re both going."
The paradic gave a nod. "Get in."
They hopped into the ambulance, and Aylin grabbed Zayden’s hand, holding it tight.
Azalea sat across from them, pressing her hand against her own shoulder wound, blood seeping through her fingers.
The paradic noticed. "You’re hurt too."
"I’m fine," Azalea insisted.
"Ma’am—"
"I said I’m fine. Focus on him."
The ambulance doors slamd shut, and the sirens blared as they took off.
Aylin stared at the monitors, heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen levels, all dropping fast.
The paradic was moving quickly, cutting off Zayden’s vest and shirt to reveal a serious injury.
It was really bad.
"We’re losing him," the paradic said. "Blood pressure is dropping. Heart rate is all over the place."
He grabbed the defibrillator. "Clear!"
Zayden’s body jolted when the shock hit.
The monitor beeped once, twice, then steadied out, weak but steady.
"We’ve got a pulse," the paradic said, "but it’s not stable. How long until we get to the hospital?"
The driver answered, "Three minutes!"
"He might not have three minutes," the paradic replied urgently.
Aylin gripped Zayden’s hand tighter. "Yes, he does," she insisted. "He’s a fighter. He’s going to make it."
Azalea, now in tears, had silent streams running down her face. She reached over and took Zayden’s other hand. "You can’t die," she told him firmly. "You can’t leave . I’m your twin. I need you. So you fight, okay? You hear ? Fight."
As the ambulance sped through red lights and dodged traffic, the hospital ca into sight, ergency entrance ahead, with doctors and nurses waiting.
The ambulance stopped, and the doors flew open. Zayden was rushed inside while Aylin and Azalea tried to follow.
A nurse blocked them. "You can’t go into surgery."
"But—"
"I’m sorry. The waiting room is that way."
Aylin felt helpless as Zayden was wheeled through the double doors, watching them close and him disappear.
Azalea held onto her hand. They stood there in the ergency room, covered in blood, Azalea’s shoulder still bleeding, both in tears, both scared, both praying.
A nurse ca up to Azalea. "Ma’am, you’re hurt. Let —"
"Not yet," Azalea replied. "Not until I know he’s alright."
"Ma’am, you’re losing blood—"
"I said not yet!"
Aylin turned to her. "Azalea, you need to get treated."
"So do you."
Aylin looked down.
Her hands were covered in blood.
Zayden’s blood.
Her clothes were soaked.
But she wasn’t hurt, at least not physically.
Emotionally, she felt like she was falling apart.
It felt like her heart had been ripped out.
As if everything had co crashing down.
Because Zayden might not make it.
The man she loved.
The man who had saved her life.
The man who had done everything to take down Alpha.
And now he might not survive to see them win.
Aylin sank into a chair in the waiting room.
She buried her face in her hands and cried.
Azalea sat down next to her, pulling her in close.
They held each other and waited.
Minutes felt like ages.
Hours felt like forever.
The doors stayed closed.
No news.
No updates.
Nothing.
Aylin kept going over that mont in her mind.
The mont Alpha raised the gun.
The mont Zayden ran for it.
The mont he pushed her out of the way.
The mont the bullet hit him.
She should have seen Alpha coming.
Should have reacted faster.
Should have done sothing.
But she didn’t.
And now Zayden was fighting for his life because of her.
Azalea seed to understand what she was thinking.
"This isn’t your fault," she said softly.
Aylin didn’t answer.
"Aylin. Look at ."
Aylin lifted her head.
Azalea’s eyes were red and puffy, but clear.
"Zayden made a choice," Azalea said. "He saw you in trouble, and he decided to have your back. That’s just who he is. You didn’t make him do that; it was his call."
"But if I hadn’t gone out there—"
"Then Alpha might have gotten away. He could have hurt more people or done sothing to Zayden anyway. We really don’t know. None of us do. So please don’t bla yourself for my brother being a hero."
Aylin swallowed hard.
"What if he doesn’t pull through?"
Azalea’s grip got tighter. "Then we’ll honor him. We’ll carry on what he started and make sure his sacrifice ant sothing."
There was a pause.
"But he’s going to pull through," Azalea added. "Because he’s really stubborn, tough, and has too much to hold on to."
She looked at Aylin.
"He has you."
Aylin’s tears started flowing again.
They sat quietly.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Praying.
The doors stayed shut.
And sowhere behind them.....
Zayden Virelli was fighting for his life.
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