Page 33 of Flare (Bearpaw Ridge Firefighters #17)

And beside him, Ward—still in his massive bear form—collapsed onto his side, his own blood mingling with Andrew ’ s on the ruined floor.

Emily dropped her empty gun and ran to Ward ’ s side, falling to her knees beside his massive bear form.

Blood soaked through the knees of her jeans, disturbingly warm.

She buried her face in his thick, coarse pelt as sobs tore from her throat.

“ Ward,” she whispered against his fur. “ Please don ’ t die. Please.”

His breathing came in ragged, wet gasps that terrified her. Each exhalation pushed more blood from the gaping wounds across his belly and chest. His amber eyes fluttered closed.

A low groan rumbled through his massive body. Then, beneath her hands, Ward ’ s form shifted. Fur receded into skin. Bones shifted with audible cracks. Muscles rearranged themselves beneath her fingertips.

The transformation looked agonizing, especially with his injuries, but within moments, the bear was gone. Ward lay naked on his blood-soaked floor, human again.

Emily felt sick. Without the thick fur concealing the full extent of the damage, Ward ’ s injuries appeared even more catastrophic.

Deep gashes traversed his abdomen from hip to ribs, exposing layers of muscle and glimpses of organs that made Emily ’ s vision swim.

Blood pulsed steadily from the wounds with each labored breath.

“ Emily,” he rasped. He reached for her hand, his fingers leaving smears of red against her skin. “ You ’ re… safe?”

“ Yes,” she choked out, pressing her forehead against his. “ I ’ m safe because of you. But you have to stay with me, okay? Please, Ward. I love you.”

One week. That ’ s all they ’ d had together. It wasn ’ t enough time. Not nearly enough.

The wail of sirens penetrated her consciousness. Help was coming, but would it arrive in time? Ward ’ s skin had gone bone white under his beard, and his lips were tinged blue at the edges. Each breath seemed to require more effort than the last.

“ Ward,” Emily pleaded, tears streaming down her face. “ You promised. You promised you ’ d protect me. That means you have to stay alive, understand?”

His lips curved in a faint smile. “ Yes, ma ’ am,” he whispered. “ And I love you, too. I ’ ve loved you forever.”

The front door burst open with a crash. Two officers stormed in, weapons drawn—Malia Jacobsen and a tall officer who looked like he could be her brother.

They took in the scene with professional swiftness.

“ Secure the scene, Kenny,” Malia ordered, holstering her weapon and rushing to Emily ’ s side. “ Emily, how badly are you hurt?”

“ W-what?” she managed. Why was Malia asking her that, when Ward lay dying in front of them?

“ Your arm,” Malia said.

Emily looked down. With a shock, she noticed her forearm was all ripped up where Andrew had grabbed her earlier.

The long scrapes were dripping blood onto her jeans and adding to the stains on Ward ’ s fur. Her Cinnamon + Sugar work t-shirt was soaked in red, plastered to her stomach and side where she ’ d braced herself to aim her gun.

And she hadn ’ t even noticed.

“ I ’ m fine,” she said, just as her injuries woke up and began screaming with pain. “ They ’ re just scratches. Help Ward… please.”

“ Ambulance is two minutes out,” Malia assured her.

Officer Kenny was already speaking into his radio, requesting additional medical support. “ Two adult males with multiple traumatic injuries. One with abdominal lacerations, one with multiple GSWs to the torso.”

Maggie burst into the living room. She wore firefighting turnout pants and suspenders, and her face was streaked with soot. She carried a large medical kit emblazoned with the Bearpaw Ridge Fire Department logo.

“ Eddie!” she exclaimed as she dropped to her knees beside him. Her trained gaze quickly assessed his injuries. “ Damn it, cuz. That asshole really messed you up.”

Meanwhile, Malia and Kenny were working on Andrew, using a second first aid kit Kenny had pulled from his vehicle.

“ I want to help,” Emily said.

“ Great.” Maggie ’ s hands moved with practiced efficiency, pulling blue latex gloves, gauze pads and pressure bandages from her kit.

“ We need to slow the bleeding,” Maggie said, handing her a pair of gloves. “ Put pressure here.” She guided Emily ’ s hands to a spot on Ward ’ s abdomen where blood pulsed with particular force.

Emily pulled on the stretchy gloves with desperate haste and pressed down as instructed. Ward ’ s warm blood continued to flow between her fingers despite her efforts. “ Is he going to die?” she asked, her voice breaking.

Maggie shook her head. “ Not if I have anything to say about it. Eddie, you listen to me. You ’ re a Swanson. You ’ re not allowed to die. Uncle Mark and Aunt Caitlyn would never forgive you.”

Ward ’ s lips twitched as he attempted to smile. His eyes had closed, and Emily noticed his breathing growing more labored.

No! Please, no , she prayed. It ’ s not fair if he dies! He was only trying to help me!

Officer Kenny was applying pressure bandages to the bullet wounds in Andrew ’ s chest. “ This one ’ s fading fast,” he called to Malia. “ Pulse is thready and irregular.”

The wail of sirens grew louder, then abruptly cut off as the ambulance arrived outside. Moments later, paramedics rushed in, carrying equipment and stretchers. They moved with practiced efficiency, taking over from Maggie, Emily, and Kenny.

Emily reluctantly stepped back to give them room to work on Ward, her gloved hands coated with his blood.

She watched, numb with shock and fear, as they established IVs, applied monitors, and transferred him to a stretcher. They worked on Andrew with equal urgency several feet away, though from the grim expressions on their faces, Emily suspected his prognosis was even worse than Ward ’ s.

“ Will they take them to the medical center here in town?” she asked Maggie.

“ Yeah,” Maggie replied, wiping Ward ’ s blood from her hands with a towel. “ It ’ s fully equipped for shifter emergencies. And Aunt Nika is the best is for treating this kind of injury.”

Emily nodded, clinging to that small hope as the paramedics lifted Ward ’ s stretcher. His face was obscured by an oxygen mask, his body covered in temporary pressure bandages that were already soaking through with blood.

As they wheeled him toward the door, Malia approached Emily, her expression softening with sympathy.

“ Those files you sent me were a gold mine,” she said, resting a gentle hand on Emily ’ s shoulder.

“ They ’ re everything we need to put the Brunborn family ’ s entire operation out of business.

For good. The Washington State authorities are moving in to arrest Katherine Brunborn and all her associates as I speak. ”

Emily blinked, struggling to process this information through her fear for Ward.

“ So, it ’ s over?” she asked, her voice small. “ The Brunborns are finished?”

“ It ’ s over,” Malia confirmed. “ In addition to whatever charges the feds slap on him, Andrew ’ s going to face charges for attempted murder, assault, stalking across state lines, and about a dozen other felonies.

If he survives, he ’ ll spend decades in prison.

So will his grandmother, parents, and brother. ”

Emily nodded. “ I ’ m glad those files helped.”

She should be happy that the Brunborns would face justice for their crimes, both against her and against countless others.

But none of that mattered if Ward died.

“ I want to go with him,” Emily said, turning toward the door where the paramedics were loading Ward into the ambulance.

Maggie caught her arm gently. “ I ’ ll drive you over.” She added reassuringly, “ Bear shifters are tough. And Swansons are tougher and way more stubborn than the average bear.”