Page 124 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2

Dawn breaks fully across the water. Light catches the tears streaming down my face.

We made it out. But I know in my bones, we’re not done. Not by a long shot.

FORTY

The Weight of Blood

HANK

Cold spreadsthrough my limbs like ice in my veins. Each heartbeat pushes less blood, moves slower, carries me further from the surface where voices echo like distant thunder.

The trawler rocks beneath me, metal hull groaning against swells. Engine vibrations travel through the deck, up through the makeshift operating table, rattling my bones. Salt air mingles with the copper taste flooding my mouth—metallic and wrong.

Bright lights stab through my eyelids. Someone’s pressing gauze to my shoulder—rough, urgent movements that send lightning through my chest. Scissors cut away my tactical vest, fabric parting with wet sounds that make my stomach clench.

“Blood pressure dropping to seventy over forty.” The medic’s voice cuts through static building in my ears. “Need another unit. Now.”

Cold saline hits my veins. It’s a temporary reprieve against the tide pulling me under. Hands work over my body—checking vitals, applying pressure, fighting a war they’re losing inch by inch.

“Hank.” Ally’s voice breaks through the medical chaos like sunlight through storm clouds. “You’re not leaving us again.” Her fingers thread through mine, warm against skin going cold. “Do you hear me? You don’t get to leave us.”

Our girl.The words won’t form on my tongue. Too much blood, not enough air. My throat moves but produces only wet, rattling sounds.

Gabe’s presence fills the space beside me—familiar even in this twilight between living and dying. His breathing is controlled but rapid. The smell of gunpowder and sweat still clinging to his clothes. His hand covers our joined fingers, grip tight enough to bruise.

Fighting something bigger than enemies or bullets or missions gone wrong.

Fighting time itself.

The monitor’s beeping slows. Each tone stretches longer, spaces between them widening like cracks in ice before it shatters completely. Sixty beats per minute. Fifty. Forty-five.

My chest burns with more than bullet wounds. The weight of unfinished business crushes down—words unsaid, forgiveness unasked, the fight that drove a wedge between us when we needed each other most.

Need to tell them.

Memories surface through the fog of dying:

Gabe’s face twisted with rage and pain.“She’s mine.”

My own voice, cold with fury.“You selfish piece of shit. She belongs to both of us.”

The sound of fists on flesh. Blood on concrete. Jeb pulling us apart before we killed each other.

Three days of silence. Three days of treating each other like strangers instead of brothers.

And now I’m dying with those words between us—sharp-edged and cutting, poison that turned our partnership into warfare.

Can’t leave it like this.

I force my eyes open. The effort costs everything, pulls me back from the edge where darkness waits. Blurred shapes swim above me—Ally’s face streaked with tears, Gabe’s jaw carved from stone.

Beautiful.

Both of them are beautiful, and mine.

“Hank.” Ally leans closer, voice breaking on my name. “Stay with us.”

Her hand cups my cheek, thumb tracing the line of my jaw. Skin soft as silk against the stubble I haven’t shaved in days. Tears fall from her eyes onto my face, warm droplets that taste like salt and sorrow.