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“Yeah.” My voice cracks. “And I carried your scrawny ass six blocks to safety.” Just like now, my hands had been covered in his blood then. But we were just kids—this is different. This is so much fucking worse.

“Not so scrawny anymore,” he mumbles, then coughs. Fresh blood stains my hands.

Terror claws at my throat. “Eli, faster!”

The SUV accelerates, engine roaring as we tear through red lights. Seb’s breathing grows more labored, each inhale a desperate struggle. My mind races with memories—teaching him to fight, watching his back through countless battles, building our empire together.

“Almost there,” Eli announces, his voice distant through the roaring in my ears. All I can focus on is the weakening pulse beneath my fingers, the growing pallor of Seb’s face.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” I whisper fiercely, pulling him closer. “You hear me? That’s a fucking order.”

His only response is a wet, rattling breath that chills me to my core.

The mansion appears ahead, lights blazing. But as Seb’s body grows heavier in my arms, I wonder if we’re too late.

I kickopen the front door with my brother’s blood still sticky on my hands. His body hangs limp in my arms.

“Get me blankets!” I roar as we storm through the foyer. “Now!”

The house erupts in chaos—boots pounding on hardwood, voices shouting orders, the metallic stench of blood filling the air. My arms burn from carrying Seb, but I won’t let anyone else touch him. Not when each second could be his last.

A small cry pierces through the mayhem. Leo stands frozen in the middle of the living room, his blue eyes wide with terror as he takes in the blood-soaked scene before him. Fuck. He shouldn’t be seeing this.

“Leo, baby, come here.” Eve appears from nowhere, moving fast. She scoops him up and turns his face into her shoulder, shielding him from the nightmare unfolding in his home. Her eyes meet mine over Leo’s head—shock, fear, and something else I can’t read flashes across her face.

“What happened?” She demands, but I’m already pushing past, following Micah into the living room. I can’t stop. Can’t explain. Every second counts.

“Uncle Zeke!” Leo calls out, his voice trembling. “Is Uncle Seb okay?”

I nearly stumbling under Seb’s weight before I make it to the couch. Because I don’t know. I don’t fucking know if he’s going to be okay, and the possibility that he won’t threatens to shatter me.

“Get him out of here,” I manage, not looking back. I can’t face Leo’s fear right now. Can’t handle Eve’s questions or concerns. All I can do is get my brother help and pray it’s not too late.

Behind me, Eve’s gentle voice murmurs comforting words to Leo as she carries him upstairs, away from the violence invading his sanctuary. One more thing I’ve fucked up. One more way I’ve failed to protect the people I—

No. Focus. Save Seb. That’s all that matters right now. Everything else can wait.

My hands shake as I press down on his wound, desperate to stop the bleeding.

“Where’s the fucking doctor?” I snarl, pressing harder on Seb’s wound as his breathing grows more labored. The metallic stench of blood fills my nostrils.

“Two minutes out.” Micah reports, his usually stoic voice tight with concern.

My brother’s face is ghostly pale, his skin clammy under my touch. Each rattling breath he takes sounds weaker than the last. I lean closer, my voice dropping to a whisper only he can hear.

“Don’t you fucking dare die on me, Seb. You hear me? I need you, brother.” My voice cracks on the last word, raw emotion bleeding through despite my efforts to stay strong.

I hear Eve’s footsteps descending the stairs behind me, but I don’t look up. Can’t look up.

“Oh my God.” Eve’s sharp intake of breath cuts through the tense silence. From the corner of my eye, I see her rush forward, medical training kicking in as she assesses the situation. “What happened?”

“Ambush,” I grunt, pressing harder as fresh blood seeps between my fingers. “Shot in the chest. Doctor’s on the way.”

Eve drops to her knees beside the couch, her hands already reaching for Seb. “Let me see.” Her voice is calm, professional, despite the horror in her eyes. When I don’t move, she touches my arm. “Zeke, let me help.”

I hesitate for a fraction of a second before shifting aside, allowing her access while maintaining pressure on the wound. She leans in close, checking Seb’s pulse, his breathing, the color of his lips.

“His pulse is weak but steady,” she reports, fingers pressed against Seb’s neck. “Keep the pressure there, just like that.” She grabs a throw blanket from the back of the couch, tucking it around him. “We need to keep him warm, prevent shock.”