Page 60 of Wild Hearts (Ruby Ridge #1)

carter

. . .

N avy-blue uniforms flood the room in a blur of movement, voices thunder through the bridal suite. Their commands are sharp and practiced, but all I can see is her.

I drop back to her side, falling to my knees as the medics push past me. One of them kneels beside her immediately, his fingers pressing to her neck, checking for a pulse. Another peels back her eyelid, waving a flashlight across her barely-there response.

“How long has she been unconscious?” the first medic asks, his tone brisk, clipped with urgency. “Do you know what she took?”

I scramble to grab the small orange bottle lying on the floor beside her, the cap still off. My hands shake as I pick it up and shove it into his hand.

“ I-I don’t know,” I manage, forcing it out.

Another medic slides in fast, uncapping a white bottle to administer into her nose. “Administering Narcan now,” he says. “Sir, I’m going to need you to back up. ”

I glare at him, unmoving.

My hand stays wrapped tightly around hers, searching for something, fucking anything, that tells me she’s still here.

I glare at the medic when he tries to nudge me aside, I think the fuck not.

He’ll have to drag my fucking brick of a body to move me away from her.

My chest feels like it’s caving in, every heartbeat comes in short, painful bursts as I press her hand to my mouth.

I kiss her fingers gently, whispering against her knuckles like she might hear me through the noise.

Please, baby. Stay with me. Don’t let go.

I hear another medic talking fast, as he tends to Vartan’s fucked face. I don’t bother turning around. I won’t give him a fucking second more of my attention.

He doesn’t exist to me anymore. He’s nothing.

Only she matters, only her.

I’m just about to brush a strand of hair from her face, my hand hovers above her cheek, when one of the medics moves in fast, pushing me back without hesitation.

“We’ve got a pulse!” he shouts. “Sir, we need to move—now!”

The words knock the breath from my lungs. I exhale so hard I nearly lose my footing. My legs feel useless beneath me as they lift her onto the stretcher, treating her like she’s fragile porcelain, like one wrong move could splinter her into pieces they’ll never be able to put back together.

Keep fighting, baby. I’m here waiting for you.

They strap her in quickly, tightening the belts across her torso and thighs, securing the oxygen mask over her face.

Her skin is still pale. Her lips, once a pretty shade of pink, are now pale with a tinge of blue that makes my stomach twist. But her chest rises now, even if it’s with help.

They move fast, weaving the stretcher through the hallway, barking instructions that I barely register.

I keep pace beside them, one hand on the railing of the stretcher.

I’m not letting her go, not even for a second.

We’re just feet from the ambulance bay when I hear the voice I thought I’d silenced.

That motherfucker won’t quit.

He steps forward like Maverick, and I didn’t put him into a wall and left him bleeding.

“I’ll ride with her,” he says, tone clipped and self-important, as if anyone asked.

I stop moving. I let go of the railing as my boots plant hard against the marble. I turn around slowly, letting the weight of everything I’m carrying shift into my stare. I look him dead in the eye, and before he can say another word, I shove him again.

Like he didn’t learn the first fucking time.

My hand lands square in the center of his chest, sending him stumbling backward.

“I think the fuck not,” I say between clenched teeth.

His perfect facade cracks, just for a second. His expression twitches—shock, fury, disbelief—but I don’t give him time to respond.

The medic standing nearby glances between us, hesitating. “Only family members can ride with the patient.”

Fuck it.

“My name’s on the paperwork,” I lie without flinching. “I’m her husband.”

The lie leaves my mouth so fast, but I don’t fucking care it’s not true. I see Vartan’s mouth open, ready to bitch, but I’m already flipping him off as I step onto the rig, not sparing him a second glance .

The door slams behind me with a finality that feels more like a goddamn promise.

The sirens scream to life as the ambulance tears away from the venue, like we’re outrunning hell itself. Every bump in the road, every turn of the wheels, feels like we’re climbing out of a grave I refuse to let her sink into.

I stare at her face, tears burning behind my eyes. I force them back down, like I’ve done my entire goddamn life. This isn’t about me falling apart; this is about holding on to her.

“You’re okay,” I whisper, as I brush her damp hair from her forehead. “You’re gonna be okay, darlin’. I’ve got you now.”

Her fingers twitch against mine. It’s faint—barely there—but it’s enough to gut me.

“I’m right here,” I whisper again, the words catching in my throat. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The ambulance swerves around a sharp corner, jostling the rig, and the monitor beside us gives another sluggish beep.

The sound punches through the air, sending chills down my spine.

Her heart rate’s still too low as she’s slowly slipping through the cracks right in front of me, and I’m fucking helpless.

There’s nothing I can do in this moment to help her, and it’s fucking killing me. I would bleed for her, break for her, burn every inch of this goddamn world if it meant I could take away all her pain and carry the weight she’s been shouldering alone. I’d hold it all, so she didn’t have to .

Fuck.

Panic twists through me again, coiling tight in my gut. I swallow hard, trying to force it down, but the nausea climbs fast. My stomach’s in knots, and all I can do is hold on.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, cutting through the noise. I pull it out with shaking fingers, glancing at the screen.

Maverick

We’re right behind you. Reed’s driving like a fucking maniac. We’ll meet you at the emergency room.

I pocket my phone, choosing not to answer. My focus stays on her—the only thing that matters right now. My time with her is precious, and I know how quickly the world can take someone from you without so much as a warning. I’ve learned that the hard way.

I lean closer, brushing her knuckles with my thumb. “You scared the shit out of me,” I whisper, my voice rough from holding it together for too long. “But I’m not letting you go. I don’t care what I have to do, what it takes. You’re not leaving me, not like this.”

No response.

I keep talking anyway. Because if she can hear me, if there’s even a sliver of her somewhere inside this stillness, I want her to know I’m not going anywhere.

The medic leans over and injects something into her IV, eyes locked on the monitor. He adjusts the oxygen mask, glancing over at me, giving a slight nod.

I give the medic a slow, tired grin, but I don’t take my eyes off her for a second.

She’s all I see. She’s all I’ve ever seen since she came to my ranch .

The woman who stormed into my life like a summer monsoon, loud and untamed, who shook up everything I thought I had settled.

That was only six months ago, but time doesn’t mean shit when someone cracks you wide open, and fills every part you didn’t realize was empty.

She became everything—my peace, my fight, my reason to start again.

I didn’t know I needed her until I couldn’t breathe without her.

She made the noise quiet. She made the weight bearable. She made me feel like I was worth something again.

I reach out, brushing a strand of damp hair behind her ear, my fingers trembling from the ache I’ve been trying not to let devour me.

“Baby,” I whisper, barely holding it together, “please, come back to me. There is no me without you. I fucking need you.”

Her lashes barely flutter.

A flicker of movement that sends hope crashing into my chest so fast it knocks the air from my lungs. I hold my breath, waiting, begging.

The monitor beside us lets out a single, sluggish beep. Then another. A high-pitched shriek slices through the silence like a knife straight through my spine.

The green line on the monitor jerks once. Then flattens. One long, unbroken line stretches across the screen like a death sentence I wasn’t ready to read.

Flatline.

“No,” I gasp, my voice shattering in the space between us. “No—no, no. Catalina!”

The medic swears under his breath as another rushes forward, grabbing the crash cart, barking orders that sound a hundred miles away. Their hands shove me backward, out of the way. I stumble into the seat beside the stretcher, my body going numb.

Everything fucking slows. The world spins off its axis as I sit there, paralyzed.

All I can hear is that cold, mechanical scream filling the back of the rig. That thin, piercing tone that doesn’t care about love, promises, or how hard I prayed for her to stay.