Chapter 9 - Field Medicine
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The penthouse was completely compromised. Silas dragged the surviving assassin away for interrogation while the guards carried Vincent’s bleeding body to the private elevator. We were abandoning the fortress.
“The safe house in the West Loop,” Silas barked to the driver as we piled into the back of a heavily armored SUV.
Vincent lay across the backseat, his head resting in my lap. The exertion of the gunfight had torn his internal stitches. He was bleeding internally, his blood pressure plummeting rapidly. I was operating in total darkness, relying solely on the flashing streetlights passing through the tinted windows.
“I need more pressure! Hand me the trauma kit!” I yelled at the bodyguard sitting in the front seat.
He tossed the red bag into the back. I tore it open, my hands slick with Vincent’s blood. I didn't have time to ask for consent. I didn't have time to narrate my movements. I ripped his ruined shirt open and pressed heavily onto his wounded shoulder.
Vincent violently flinched, a low, guttural cry escaping his lips. His uninjured arm flew up, his hand grabbing my throat on pure, blind instinct. The haphephobia—the terror of unexpected touch—took over his brain. He wasn't seeing me; he was seeing the fire.
The bodyguard raised his weapon, preparing to strike Vincent to save me.
“Don't touch him!” I choked out to the guard, refusing to pull away from Vincent.
I looked down at the man strangling me. I didn't fight his grip. I just looked into his wild, terrified gray eyes.
“Vincent,” I rasped, struggling for air. “It’s Nora. I’m saving you. Let me save you.”
My voice, even broken and breathless, pierced through the nightmare. He blinked, the fog of trauma clearing. Realizing his hand was wrapped around my neck, he yanked it away as if I had burned him.
“Nora… God, I’m sorry,” he gasped, tears of shame filling his eyes.
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“Don't be,” I said, returning my full weight to his wounds, stopping the bleeding. “Just stay awake. Focus on my voice. We are almost there.”
For the rest of the agonizing drive, he didn't close his eyes. He kept them locked on my face, anchoring himself to the only person in the world who wasn't afraid of his darkness.
