Then I pull my phone out of my pocket and call 112.
I talk to the operator, and she tells me what to do for Gabrielle as the ambulance is dispatched. She talks me through it, even when I start crying, even when Gabrielle seems to slip from consciousness.
I hold her, trying to stanch the wound, trying to keep her alive until sirens fill the air.
I’ll never forget that sound.
It sounds like hope.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
GABRIELLE
The world comes back slowly, sound by sound, color by color, feeling by feeling.
First I hear the sound of a machine, a soft whir coupled with a low beep that coincides with my own heartbeat. Then I open my eyes and see white. Nothing but white. So bright that I have to blink a few times.
Is this heaven? I think absently.
Am I dead?
How did I die?
And then I feel.
I feel a hand wrapped around mine, squeezing tight. The hand is strong and warm, and it feeds comfort into my veins, just as the IV drip does.
I’m in a hospital.
“Gabrielle.”
I’m in a hospital with Pascal by my side.
I move my head slightly and see his face peering down at me, tears in the corners of his eyes.
Those beautiful eyes.
Staring at me with so much sorrow and hope and happiness that I feel it all the way into the depth of my heart, the marrow of my bones.
I try to move my lips to say his name, but I can’t, my lips are too dry.
“Shhh,” he says to me, reaching over and brushing his fingers over my cheek. “Don’t try to talk. You’re okay. You’re all right. You’re safe.”
I blink at him slowly. I don’t feel safe, especially as I notice the awful bruises and gash on his cheekbone where I hit him with the gun.
Oh fuck. I am so sorry.
I need to say the words, to tell him, but they won’t come out.
“It’s fine,” he says with a soft smile, knowing what I’m looking at. “It’s just a bruise. I got some stitches while I was here, so it all worked out in the end. Plus, now I’m going to have a real tough-guy scar. Might fool some people.”
You are a tough guy, I think. I think you saved my life.
“Wh . . .” I try to talk, but my throat is so parched.
“Hold on,” he says, reaching over my head to press something. “You need water.”
A nurse appears a moment later. “She’s awake,” she says in surprise. “Let me get the doctor and some ice chips.”
She disappears, and Pascal raises my hand to his lips, kissing the top of it. “Just relax,” he says. “It will all make sense soon.”
My eyes widen as I remember what happened.
I was shot.
I look down at my stomach but can’t see anything because of the hospital gown.
“You’re going to be fine,” Pascal says. “Honestly. You were very lucky. Both of us were very fucking lucky.”
It all comes back to me.
Being captured by Gautier in the tunnel.
Him dragging me up into the house.
Being held down.
What he planned to do with me.
The fear.
Oh God, the fear that was so overpowering that I almost went into shock. It was the only way I could have protected myself from what was going to happen.
No doubt, he then meant to kill me in some torturous way.
Then Pascal showed up.
My knight in tarnished armor.
I was saved.
And then I was shot.
I don’t remember much after that. It’s probably for the best.
“Is . . . ?” I try to say. “Is he . . . ?”
Pascal just nods but with a look that tells me to be quiet.
I press my lips together just as the doctor and nurse come in.
“You’re awake, Gabrielle,” the doctor says. “How do you feel? Wait, don’t answer that yet.”
The nurse leans over and gives me a small paper cup filled with chips. I chew them down until I feel stronger, my mouth satisfied.
I then look at the doctor. “I feel like I’ve been shot.”
Everyone laughs, albeit a little nervously. It’s true, though—I do feel like I’ve been shot. The pain in my side is getting more and more intense the longer I’m awake.
“I see,” the doctor says, squinting at me. “And I’m afraid we’re going to need more morphine.” He nods at the nurse, who does something to the drip, and it’s not long before I feel strange liquid in my veins, making the pain dull, making the room seem blurry and warm.