Page 91 of Omega's Fever

“Love you,” he manages.

Penelope’s there suddenly, phone pressed to her ear. “We need an ambulance! Gunshot wound to the chest. He’s losing blood fast.”

Damon crawls over, one eye swollen shut, nose clearly broken. But alive. He presses his hands over mine, adding pressure to the wound.

“Here!” I scream. “We’re in here! Hurry!”

Kellen’s eyes drift closed.

27

Kellen

The first thing I notice is the smell of disinfectant. It makes me think I’m back in prison, but it’s mixed in with vanilla which is confusing.

The second thing I notice is the pain—a dull throb in my chest that spikes when I try to breathe too deep.

The third thing I notice is Milo.

He’s asleep in a chair beside my bed, one small hand wrapped around mine.

His head rests at an awkward angle that’s going to leave him sore. There are dark circles under his eyes, deeper than before, and his clothes are wrinkled like he’s been wearing them for days.

The fourth thing I notice is the beeping and the machines. I’m in a hospital bed. I’m not strapped down to it either. There are no cuffs. No guards that I can see.

I try to speak, but my throat feels like sandpaper. The small sound I manage is enough though. Milo’s eyes fly open.

“You’re awake.” His voice cracks on the words. “Oh god, Kellen, you’re awake.”

He’s on his feet instantly, hands fluttering over me. “How do you feel? Are you in pain? I should call the nurse. They said to call when you woke up. But first—water? Do you want water?”

“Milo.” It comes out as a rasp, but it’s enough to stop his frantic movements. “Breathe.”

A laugh bubbles out of him, half-sob, half-relief. “You’re telling me to breathe? You’re the one who got shot. You’re theone who—” His voice breaks completely. “You almost died. You threw yourself in front of a bullet for me and you almost died.”

“Worth it.” The words hurt to say, but I need him to hear them. “How are—”

“I’m fine. We’re all fine.” He grabs a cup from the bedside table, guides a straw to my lips. The water is heaven on my raw throat. “Damon’s got a concussion and some bruised ribs. Penelope wasn’t hurt at all.”

I take another sip, studying his face. “How long have I been here?”

“Three days.” His hand finds mine again, squeezes tight. “They had to do surgery to repair the damage. There was... there was so much blood, Kellen. I thought—”

“Hey.” I turn my hand in his, interlace our fingers. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

“You’re okay,” he repeats, like he’s trying to convince himself. Then, stronger: “You’re okay.”

He reaches for the remote on the bed rail. “The nurse said to call, but first—you need to see this.” He flips on the TV mounted on the wall, already tuned to a news channel.

The headline scrolling across the bottom makes me blink, sure I’m reading it wrong: CRIME BOSS COBB SEWELL KILLED IN SHOOTOUT WITH FEDERAL AGENTS.

“What—”

“Shh, listen.” Milo turns up the volume.

The anchor is a polished blonde who looks genuinely excited about her story. “—released evidence reveals the depth of Sewell’s criminal enterprise. Documents obtained by prosecutors show involvement in human trafficking, money laundering, and racketeering spanning over a decade. We go now to our correspondent at the courthouse...”

The scene shifts to a familiar building, reporters clustered on the steps. “Thanks, Sharon. The evidence against CobbSewell is overwhelming. Financial records, security footage, and witness testimony paint a picture of a man who controlled a vast criminal network while maintaining a facade of legitimate business.”