Road To Fire (Broken Crown Trilogy #1) - Maria Luis Page 0,130

her face. I fan my thumbs over her cheekbones, my other fingers cradling the back of her skull. Blood coats the corner seams of her mouth. More dot the ivory white of her upper teeth.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Isla.” Her name leaves my lips on a battered plea. “Isla, sweetheart. I’m here. I’m here.”

I wait for her lids to pop open as though the sound of my voice has the ability to perform miracles. But I’ve only been friendly with the devil, the conductor of destruction himself, and her eyes remain shut, her face pale from loss of blood.

Terror mounts, gathering in my throat, my chest.

Hurriedly, my fingers skim her neck, searching for her pulse. Weak, too weak. Her chest looks ravaged by a sea of red. She needs pressure. Christ, what she needs is a surgeon but we’re too far away from the Palace. Lifting the hem of my shirt, I tear the fabric in two. It would be better if the cloth were clean, if we were within driving distance of Holyrood, but there’s no time to dwell on what isn’t reality. I need to get her to a hospital—now.

Pressing my shirt to her open wound, I shift her weight and gently gather her in my arms.

Her breath ghosts over my neck, faint but there. Barely.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. Fucking stay with me.”

With her limp frame tucked into my chest, I tear out of the office, barely sparing Jack’s hunched-over frame another look.

The dining area is completely empty. Chairs turned over. Splintered stemware glittering on the floor. I ignore it all, too focused on the woman in my arms. “I’m breathing for us both. Every breath. Every hope. Do you hear me, Isla? Don’t give up. Please, please don’t give up.” My face heats; eyes prick with moisture. “I need you,” I rasp, aware of my voice cracking, “I love you.”

The heavy weight of my boot has the front door sailing open. It flings wide, nearly coming off the hinges, and then I’m cutting left, toward where I left Peter and Josie. Her brother must spot us in the rearview mirror because the passenger’s side door flies open and then his lean frame is sprinting toward me.

“What happened? Saxon, what happened to my sister?”

He shot her.

I can’t say the words out loud. They’re crammed in my throat, lodged there with panic and grief and love. So much love for this woman, and fuck!

“Recline your seat.” When Peter hesitates, clearly hating the thought of leaving Isla’s side, I bark, “Now!”

His face whitens, and with a short nod, he’s moving and I’m trailing behind, hot on his heels. The passenger seat goes horizontal and Peter inches to the side, waiting. Waiting. I look down at Isla. Her lips are blue and her skin so very pale, and I drop my head, praying to feel the shallow ghost of her breath on my—

“Saxon,” Peter argues, “lay her down.”

I can’t let her go. Won’t let her go.

My fingers dig into her flesh, pulling her tighter against me. If I put her on that seat . . . if I release her for any amount of time—

“Priest.”

“Help me,” I grunt, and then we’re carefully lowering her onto the seat together. Josie’s whimpers are more strokes of terror down my spine. I’m aware of ordering her to keep Isla in place while I drive, of Peter clambering into the backseat along with his younger sister. Six minutes. That’s all it’ll take to deliver her straight to the front doors of the closest hospital.

I punch the accelerator, grab Isla’s limp hand in mine, and don’t let go.

I’ll hold on for the two of us forever, if it means she’ll stay by my side.

“Who did this?” Peter demands, anger undercutting the obvious worry in his voice. “Who did this to her? Was it your brother? Was it?”

“No.”

“Priest, you better tell me who it was or so help me God, I will—”

“Stop!”

It’s Josie’s cry that snaps her brother into silence. “Stop! We have to be calm for her. We have to b-be calm. What if”—a sharp sob escapes her—“what if she c-can hear us yelling?”

In the rearview mirror, I see Peter’s shoulders begin to tremor. “She can’t die. She can’t.”

“I won’t let her.” Two pairs of eyes find mine before I return my gaze to the road. Softly, I speak only to Isla, “Do you hear that, sweetheart? I won’t let you. Don’t you dare disappoint me. I—I need you. Now, tomorrow, forever. You’re my only, and if you