I put my lips over Zeke’s, breathing life into him, while applying pressure to his chest wounds. Langton struggles to contain the blood spurting from Zeke’s stomach.
His chest rises and falls, confirming that oxygen is getting in, but I know his heart isn’t beating hard enough to push what little blood is left in his body through his veins.
I start pumping over his heart, demanding it beat faster.
“You don’t get to die, Zeke! Not today! Do you hear me?! You don’t get to fucking die,” I scream, as I continue to pump my hands over his heart, while Langston and Kai do their best to keep the blood inside his body.
I hear footsteps down the hallway. Westcott opens the front door to let the doctor in.
Finally.
I look to Langston and Kai who have yet to notice that help is on the way. The sound is too faint for either of them to hear or notice. But the doctor is coming.
I can’t save Zeke, I’m not strong enough, but I have enough money and resources to pay for the best team. If anyone can save him, they can.
Footsteps grow louder as they run down the hallway to where we lay.
The door crashes open and a team of six doctors and nurses race inside, the lead doctor, Lester Patten, is in the front.
Thank fuck I pay him well enough to drop everything and come, no questions asked.
This isn’t the first time he’s had to come to save one of my men or me, but this is the worst he’s ever had to deal with.
Patten’s face falls ashen for a second when he makes a quick visual assessment of the situation. And my fears are confirmed—this is bad.
“Get him on the gurney. Now. We need to perform a surgery,” Patten says.
The team descends, taking all of our places as they cover the wounds and move Zeke to a gurney.
“He’s not breathing,” I say, my voice suddenly calmer now that I’ve accepted that Zeke will most likely die and there is nothing left for me to do here.
Patten looks to one of his men, who immediately starts performing CPR, while the rest pack in his wounds with more gauze to try and stop the bleeding.
“You should find everything you need to perform surgery in the room down the hall,” I say, even though the doctor and his team already know which room to head to. I have one room that is always set up for this exact situation. You can never be too careful. We don’t have time to get to the hospital. And even if we made it, Zeke wouldn’t be safe there. Alastar’s men would try to kill one of us there.
“I know,” Patten says.
And then they are gone—whizzing Zeke down the hallway to do what I paid for—everything fucking possible to save his life.
Langston looks at me a second, trying to be loyal to me, but needing to go watch over Zeke. His eyes are red with worry, his cheeks stained with tears that must have fallen at some point, his face still white from shock, and his body tense with fear.
“Go,” I say.
He doesn’t wait for a second order. He leaves.
“I’m so sorry, Enzo,” Kai says.
I close my eyes trying to conjure all the self-control I can muster. But Zeke’s blood still clings to my fingers and clothes. I can’t let what happened go.
“Do you have any idea what you just did?!” I scream at Kai.
Her lip trembles as my voice beams through the room, ricocheting off walls and pouring into her as if I just used my fists instead of my voice.
“I didn’t realize—”
“Exactly. You don’t fucking belong in this world. You have no idea what it takes to be Black. If you were to win, all you would do is get yourself and my entire organization killed. Your first decision as Black got Zeke killed!”
“He’s not dead—”