My heart clenches when a somber-faced doctor enters the room. He heads directly to Thumper, knowing our teammate speaks the language. We all stand around, waiting.
Thumper holds up his hands, asking the doctor to pause. I can only imagine the information overload he’s being given. Thumper turns to face us, swallowing thickly before he speaks. “This hospital isn’t equipped for the trauma,” Thumper says. “But even if they were, they would have been unable to save his leg from amputation.”
Deep down, I already knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his leg. The injury was too intense for that to happen, but it didn’t stop me from praying that I was wrong. That my limited medical experience was wrong.
Thumper goes back to speaking with the doctor, and when they’re done, the doctor leaves the waiting room. Thumper takes a long moment to gather his thoughts before he speaks to Rocker specifically. “Arrangements will have to be made. The VA Hospital in Houston is the closest one to us.”
Rocker holds up his phone. “Kincaid has already made arrangements, and a jet is heading this way to transport him there.”
“I’m going with him to Houston,” I insist, and I know the severity of what we’re facing when Rocker doesn’t argue. The short-term goal is to get Aro to Houston, where an amputation can be performed before he turns septic, but I have to consider the long-term repercussions of what my teammate is facing if he survives the surgery.
Amputations are hard for anyone who has to go through them, but I feel as if it’s harder for a man who was once a soldier. I know there’s an increased chance of depression, suicidal ideation and attempts for a man like Aro.
“I’m going too,” Ugly says.
Rocker shakes his head. “Kincaid wants everyone else back in New Mexico. Slick can go. The team back home is flying out to meet medical transport upon Aro’s arrival in Texas.”
I watch Ugly clench his jaw, his face a mask of irritation and anger. I know it’s not directed at me. He’s not upset that I’m being allowed to go. He’s pissed that he has to head back home while the closest member he has is hurt. I know every one of them would want to stay behind, but it’s not possible. Even the VA Hospital in Houston wouldn’t tolerate a dozen Cerberus men and women showing up and issuing commands about their teammate.
“Three hours,” Rocker says. “In three hours, we’ll have him out of here and on his way to recovery.”
I know he’s talking about the immediate injuries and the amputation. Because I don’t want to drag everyone else down, I don’t speak about the long road of recovery, mentally and physically, that Aro will suffer. He may make it through the surgery, but he may never recover from tonight.
Chapter 4
Aro
I’m not a stranger to waking up feeling like absolute shit. I have a tendency to party hard and hold nothing back.
Today is no different, but even if I weren’t in a hospital, surrounded by my teammates, there would be no way I could mistake this for another run-of-the-mill hangover.
I never knew real pain until this moment.
I clench my teeth in agony long before I’m capable of opening my eyes. The level of pain I’m in is unreal, considering the amount of medication I’ve been given to control it. The chatter around me grinds to a halt, and it takes a handful of attempts before I can manage to open my eyes fully.
I knew there were numerous people in the room from the voices filtering in before regaining consciousness, but I didn’t expect to see Kincaid, Shadow, Kid, Dominic, Itchy, and Snatch gathered around my bed. You know it’s a serious fuckup when the entire upper team leaves the state to sit by your bedside.
I swallow before attempting an apology, but the words don’t come. I have a million questions. Some, I’m the only one capable of answering, but I don’t want to focus on myself or my fucking failures.
I swallow again as my eyes land on my president. “Anyone else?” I take another swallow. My throat is so fucking dry. “Did anyone else get hurt?”
Kincaid clamps his big hand on my shoulder, shaking his head. “Everyone else is safe.”
“The women?” I manage to ask.
He looks somber before speaking. “We weren’t able to recover anyone alive.” He’s pained with that knowledge, and so am I.
Did they have time to kill the remaining women there during the battle? Were they dead long before we made entry? I don’t know if they would have the answers. I don’t know if I want to know the truth. Sometimes we’re too late. Sometimes the intel is bad. Those are things we can’t usually control. But how I acted, the situation I put everyone in, was controllable. I failed everyone in this room. I risked each life that raided that compound. I nod at Kincaid, accepting his answer.