He felt the pulse.
“Sir, step back.”
Tack ignored that too.
Her green eyes came to him and he sensed her hand come up.
He tagged it and squeezed tight as the paramedics gave up on him and started running the gurney into the ER.
Tack ran with it, hand at her throat, other hand in hers, eyes locked.
“Don’t let me go,” she whispered.
“I won’t let you go, Red.”
“Don’t let me go.”
“I won’t let you go, baby.”
“Don’t let me go.”
This last wasn’t verbalized. Just her mouth moved with the words.
Tack didn’t answer because her hand went limp in his as the light flashed out of her eyes.
Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him.
She let him go.
Everything he had focused on his hand at her throat.
No pulse.
“Sir! Step back!”
Kane Allen stepped aside and watched them race the gurney through swinging doors that closed behind it, hiding her from sight.
* * * * *
“It was too easy,” Tack muttered.
“What, brother?” Dog asked from close.
“Redemption,” Tack answered.
“Brother,” Dog murmured then clapped a hand on Tack’s shoulder.
They stood together for a while before he felt Dog move away to give him space.
When he was alone, he lifted his hand to his chest and pressed in. The metal dogtags she gave him were cold against his skin but that cold felt like a burn.
Then her words came to him.
Truth, honesty, perseverance, strength, love of all kinds and forgiveness are all beautiful, Tack. The most beautiful stories ever told are the most difficult to take.
“You were right, Red,” he whispered to the doors. “You were right, darlin’.”
* * * * *