Echoes at Dawn (KGI #5)(86)

The broken words poured from the very depths of her soul.

Grace.

There was a faint stirring as if he was barely hanging on.

Don’t you dare do this. Get out. Go to Terrence. He’ll get you out safely. You’re too weak, baby. Don’t do this. I’m begging you.

She ignored his pleading. She slammed into his mind with the last remaining strength she had. She overpowered his objections, held her ground when he would have fought her off. Nothing, no one, would keep her from saving him.

He was hers, goddamn it, and he’d damn well live even if it killed her.

She reached deep, found reserves she never knew she had. Desperation and her love for this man gave her power she would have never dreamed she possessed.

She pulled, absorbed, and the more she did, the more pain cr

acked through her, splintering, cutting into her like a thousand knives.

She gasped, flinched. She thought she cried out, but she couldn’t be sure. Her focus was solely on him. On stopping the flow of blood. On healing the terrible wound that would most certainly kill him if she couldn’t save him in time.

The smell of blood was strong. So strong she gagged. It was then she realized it wasn’t his blood. It was hers. On her tongue. Seeping down her neck.

As his wound closed beneath her hands, hers opened, tearing a hole in her flesh.

Her vision went dim. It was hard to breathe. So very hard to breathe.

Never had she felt this kind of pain.

Her body, already so weak and embattled by absorbing Elizabeth’s illness, had reached its limit. Not even she could help herself anymore.

She was dimly aware of fÀly awareootsteps pounding down the hallway. Distant gunshots. Yells. Barked orders.

With the last of her waning strength, she sealed the wound in Rio’s chest. And then she gave one last, stuttered breath and slid soundlessly to the floor beside him.

CHAPTER 38

RIO took a huge, gulping breath, jerking to awareness as if someone had just defibrillated his heart and he’d come back from the dead. His hand automatically went to his upper chest, to the terrible wound so near his throat. Only he found nothing. No gaping hole.

His hand came away bloodstained. He hadn’t imagined it. And yet the pain was gone. He could breathe. It was as if it had never happened.

And then he remembered Grace’s broken pleas. Her desperation to save him. And him begging her not to try to save him.

He rolled, immediately coming into contact with her limp body lying next to his. The wound—his wound—was there in her chest. The flesh lay open, and blood ran in a seemingly never-ending stream.

“Grace.”

It came out as barely a whisper.

“Grace!”

He went to his knees, his hands covering the wound, trying desperately to stop the flow of blood. He looked around, panicked. No idea what to do, how to save her.

Hancock shoved in beside him and Rio went for him, not wanting him to so much as touch Grace. Hancock knocked him back and then pressed a thick towel to Grace’s wound, holding firm pressure.

“Terrence!” Rio yelled. “Diego! Somebody! Goddamn it, I need help! We have to get her out of here!”

He returned to Grace, noting the pallor of her face and her complete lack of movement.

“Oh God, Grace,” he said, his voice completely cracking. “No, no, baby. Why. Oh God, why?”

The rest came out in a tortured moan. With Hancock still holding firm pressure to Grace’s wound, Rio gathered her in his arms, rocking back and forth as tears ran freely down his cheeks.

He knew. He knew what this had cost her. He could feel no air exchange. Could feel no breath from her nose or mouth. He buried his face in her hair and wept because he’d lost the one thing in this world that mattered the most to him.

She hadn’t been strong enough to heal him. Not a mortal wound. And so she’d taken it in his stead, knowing the sacrifice she was making.

He kissed her temple, his tears wetting her hair. He gently pushed the strands back away from her beautiful face. He stroked her cheek, ran his fingers over motionless lips.

“I love you,” he said brokenly. “Don’t leave me, Grace. Please don’t leave me alone.”

Pounding footsteps in the hall. Diego followed closely behind by Donovan. Donovan pushed Hancock aside and quickly worked to seal the wound.

He spared Rio a quick glance, full of regret and resignation. “It’s bad, man. We have to move now. Chopper’s waiting. Our only hope is to get her to a hospital so she can be stabilized long enough for her natural healing ability to kick in.”

While Donovan spoke, he felt for a pulse. For a moment his fingers remained at her neck and then he cursed.

“Put her down, Rio,” he barked.

Rio complied, easing her to the floor. His heart dropped when Donovan rose over her, his hands overlaid as he began to compress her chest.

“Hold pressure to that wound,” Donovan ordered. “Make sure that airway is sealed.” Then to Diego.ƀ “Give her mouth to mouth. We have to get her back.”

Donovan pumped her chest and then lifted his gaze down the hall. “Where’s the goddamn med pack? I need an IV yesterday!”

More footsteps in the hall, but all Rio saw, all he could focus on, was Grace and her fight to live.

He slipped into her mind just as she’d done to him.

Goddamn it, Grace. Don’t you go out like this. You hang on. You can beat this.