Page 120 of King of Ashes
God damn it, I am trying my best here. Fuckers like Cato survived three bullets. I won’t be the asshole to go down from one. It would be embarrassing.
Reaching the doctor’s house, he takes one look at me and says, “You refuse to die, I see.”
I chuckle. “I still have some things to settle first.”
He helps me down the stairs to his basement and places me on the makeshift hospital bed. He cuts the shirt off me, revealingmy wounds. Rolling me to the side, he says, “The bullet made a clean exit, but your blood loss is worrisome.”
He hooks me up to various machines and an IV, then gets to work while my cousin pales into a ghost next to me.
I wink at her. “I’m tougher than the bullet.”
She cries out. “Please don’t leave me.”
“Not yet,” I gnash out through another wave of pain, needing my words to manifest themselves.
“Anesthesia,” he says, approaching me with a mask.
“No, I want to feel it.” It’s the least I can do after causing her so much pain when I swore I’d rather stay away than hurt her again in any way. It’s like I can’t fucking change our ending regardless of my attempts.
“Don’t be stubborn,” my cousin insists.
I glare at the doctor, and he grumbles under his breath, “Fine, we don’t have time to lose.”
The pain is atrocious, making me recoil. I grip the edge of the bed so hard it’s a wonder that the needle of the IV doesn’t snap.
The pulse oximeter beeps wildly. My blood pressure spikes, sweat pouring from me, but it drops when he stops the bleeding.
Maybe it’s the exhaustion or the near-death experience, but my lids close, and I embrace the nothingness.
Through the mental fog, I hear my cousin yelling my name.
“He needs to sleep,” the doctor says, and my cousin holds my hand as I drift away, wondering if I will wake up.
My lids feel heavy,needing a few attempts to open my eyes. I am in bed, a dim light glowing in the makeshift hospital room. My cousin sleeps on a chair, still holding my hand.
She’s more like a little sister to me, and I smile, grateful for her.
I am hooked to another IV, and I read the label. Antibiotics. Right. I won’t die of an infection if I survived a bullet.
The doctor comes in to check on me. “You were extremely lucky. One inch away from your liver. Didn’t hit any major artery.”
I nod, and he continues, “Take it easy the next few days. You need to heal.”
My cousin stirs, and when she sees I am awake, she jumps to my side, making me hiss. She forces herself back. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I say, my voice sounding groggy. “I need you to do something.”
Both she and the doctor eye me with pure skepticism as I tell them about my plan.
Neither of them even tries to refute. In my world, my word is law.
The doctor shifts things into place, making it appear as if a machine is keeping me alive, and my cousin slides her finger over her phone, showing me the camera. “I don’t like this, but I’ll help you with this stupid plan just because she shot you.”
“Don’t hate her. Don’t blame her. She doesn’t know.” I’d defend Zara even if she prompted a mass extinction. I’d choose her even if she ensured my ruin.
Noemi seeks my eyes. “I don’t hate her, but I blame her. I don’t know if I can forgive her,” she sighs, hugging me. “I love you, cuz, and I hope one day she realizes that no man has ever loved a woman the way you love her.”
There’s yearning in her eyes, and as the doctor makes sure the frame appears as real as possible, my cousin snaps some pics.
