Murhder was suffering—and either the male in there was going to die or John was going to have to go through it.
Calling on her professionalism—because it gave her a job, something to focus on other than the nightmare in that operating room—Sarah pulled back and cleared her throat.
“The blood tests are showing what I was hoping to see. So don’t focus on how hard it is going to be for you—think about how the cure—”
John’s brows dropped low, and he started to sign, furiously.
A male voice spoke up behind her. “He says he doesn’t care about anything other than if Murhder is going to be okay—”
Sarah cut off whoever was translating. “I know what he said.”
She turned around and was shocked to find that … there were a dozen males standing around in the corridor. She hadn’t even noticed them, which was a surprise, given how big they all were.
In the back of her mind, she marveled at how so many different faces could show the exact same expression.
Grim terror.
“We’re not giving him any more,” she told the crowd. “So now we have to see how he rides it out. The white blood cell count is doing what … it’s what I thought.” She looked at John. “It’s what I believe you need.”
“Is he going to die?”
She glanced over at the male who had spoken. He was the one with the military haircut and the white streak in the middle of his cowlick. The one that, if she remembered correctly, she had called Sergeant Know-It-All.
“I don’t know.” Abruptly, she threw her shoulders back. “But I can promise you this. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure he lives through this.”
Amazing how being in service to others gave you strength you didn’t know you had. Repurposed and refocused, Sarah pushed open the door and went back to the bedside.
The chains were cutting into Murhder’s ankles and she grabbed two towels from a stack. Waiting until his legs went loose for a split second, she slipped them into place on both sides so the metal links wouldn’t chafe his skin.
Then she resumed her watchful pose up against the wall. As he continued to seize, the medical staff monitored everything—and even though she didn’t doubt their competency, nothing felt like it was enough.
“We’ve got to kill those motherfuckers.”
Out in the concrete corridor, John glanced across as Vishous spoke up. The Brother was lighting a hand-rolled, his teeth holding the cigarette in place, his glowing hand doing the duty of a Bic. His slashing brows were so low, they distorted the tattoos on his temple.
“Those fucking shadows need to be over,” he muttered.
John refocused on the closed door of the operating room. It was impossible for him not to feel responsible for what Murhder was going through. Even as John knew he hadn’t volunteered to get stung, his reaction to the wound … this shit with Murhder … he was never going to forgive himself if the male died on his account.
“John.” Xhex’s voice was low, barely above a whisper. “This is not your fault. You did not do this.”
Turning his back to the crowd, so no one could translate, he signed, They did the right thing.
“What are you talking about?”
The rattling of chains coming through the closed door made him close his eyes. It was all he could do to keep from screaming.
Refocusing, he signed, Not letting me into the Brotherhood. They did the right thing.
Xhex shook her head and said softly, “What are you talking about? Every one of them has gotten injured at one time or another.”
Not like this.
“Just stop,” she said with exhaustion. “You’re not making any sense.”
He turned back around and faced the door. The bumping and slamming, the rattling, the barked orders of the medical staff on the far side of the wood panel—it was the soundtrack to a nightmare. And as he listened to the different noises, separating each component of the suffering, he felt a shift in the center of his chest.
Xhex was right. He was being ridiculous. He had fought with courage and strength, and what he had happened to him could have happened to anyone. What did it matter whether or not he was a Brother?
Murhder wasn’t one any longer, and look at the male of worth he was, sacrificing himself for somebody he barely knew, putting his life on the very line.
I will fight in your honor, he vowed to the male on that operating table. I’m going to