Page 119 of The First Cut

There's more shuffling before I feel lips lightly pressing against my forehead.

“I’m here, doll. I’ve got you.”

“The kids,” I whisper.

“They’re safe, I swear. Byte, can you?—”

“No. Don’t let them see me like this.”

He hesitates for a minute before barking out orders for his med kit and to have the truck brought around.

“I grabbed it on the way over,” Gunther tells him.

“Lola? You still with me, doll?”

“I got nowhere else to be,” I jokingly whisper. It falls flat when nobody laughs.

“We need to get you to the hospital, but I want to look you over first, so I can see what we’re working with. The more I can tell the doctors, the quicker they can fix you up.”

“Okay, Hannibal, I trust you.”

“Good girl.”

“Byte, text Millie from my cell and tell her to hang tight for a minute. Tell her Lola's okay so she doesn’t worry, and that you’ll come get her when it’s clear out here.”

“IsLola okay?” Byte asks quietly. Hannibal doesn’t answer, which is an answer in itself.

“Take Driller to the pit and guard him,” he grunts at someone. I hear more people moving around, but no sound comes from Driller.

“He’s not dead, is he?”

“Not just yet.”

“Make it hurt for me.”

“Oh, I will. That’s my vow to you.”

I let my eyes slip closed as I feel hands on my body and the soft snick of scissors as my T-shirt is cut open.

“Jesus fuck.” I hear curses, but the voices sound far away.

“Okay, screw this, I can’t risk that she doesn’t have internal bleeding. We need to move now.” Hannibal’s voice gets colder as he switches from the man I love to the man who’s trying to save my life.

“Gunther, grab me that robe from the back of the door and help me put it on her.”

I cry out when I’m jostled and eased into a sitting position. I whimper when the soft cotton drags over my skin, feeling myself sway a little.

“I’m going to pick you up and carry you down to the truck. It’s gonna hurt, but I’ll be as gentle as I can be.”

He doesn’t give me time to say anything. He scoops me up and tugs me to his chest.

“Can you bring the kids to the hospital? I need to see them, but I?—”

Byte cuts him off. “Go. I’ve got them.”

“Thank you.” Hannibal hurries us out the door and down the stairs. I cry out at the jostling but Hannibal doesn’t slow down until we get to the truck.

Someone opens the door and holds it so Hannibal can climb in, arranging me in his lap. They climb in beside us and slam the door as the front doors open and close.