Three holes cover his chest.
Fuck.
Langston and I exchange a quick, worried glance. He has less than a five percent chance of surviving and that’s being generous.
“The first aid kit!” I yell to Langston who is already moving to where I keep it in the cabinet on the wall for emergencies just like this.
He opens the box and starts pulling out all the gauze he can find. I find the first bullet wound on his stomach spurting the most blood and pack the gauze tightly over the wound.
Langston does the same for the two wounds on his upper chest.
“Just hang on, Zeke,” I repeat.
I scan more of his body trying to find other sources of the bleeding.
His jeans are soaked in red blood.
And then I see the slice on his upper thigh less than an inch from his groin.
Jesus, these men are savages. They tried to castrate my most loyal man. They won’t get away with this.
“I need more gauze,” I shout to Langston.
Langston’s eyes grow big. “There’s none left.”
“Fuck!”
I stare down at what we have, but if I remove any of the already soaked gauze from his current wounds, he’ll die. But if I don’t stop the bleeding in his thigh, he’ll die. Whatever I do, he’ll die.
“Here,” Kai says, pulling her shirt from her body and tossing it on his leg.
I cover the wound with the shirt, pressing hard and deep.
“Let me,” she says, kneeling next to me.
I want to push her away and say she has no right to touch him, not when she is the reason he will die. If I had been there, this would have never happened. I have instincts my father taught me that Langston and Zeke don’t. I would have realized the trap that was set.
“Push down hard on the wound with everything you have. Use your entire body,” I say.
She nods, her fingers brushing against mine as she takes over applying pressure on his leg. When our fingers touch, I no longer feel the spark of connection. Instead, I feel anger and hatred. I’ve never wanted to punish someone so much in my life.
Never.
Kai has no idea what Zeke means to me, what Langston means. They are truly my family. Two of only a handful of people who actually care if I live or die—and she put a member of my family at risk.
Unacceptable.
She’s not cut out for this life. And the sooner she realizes it, the sooner I can take over as Black again, on my own.
Langston goes white staring at Zeke.
“Is he breathing?” I ask.
“No.”
“Don’t you dare die on me!” I yell, my voice cracking as I scream. I don’t get emotional often. I haven’t cried since I was a kid, but I feel the water clouding my eyes. My heart aches and pounds in my chest. “Trade with me,” I say to Langston.
He nods and moves, too shaken up to think straight.