Saving Sami

Chapter 17 Breathe



ACE-
The clubhouse was chaos.
But inside that back room—the one the club usually used for patching up bullet holes and knife wounds—time had stopped.
The door was shut. Locked. Noise muffled by the thick wood and the smell of blood, sweat, and alcohol.
Sami lay on the table, barely breathing. Her shirt was soaked through, her jeans soaked in mud and blood, one boot missing. Her red curls were plastered to her face, skin pale as death.


Ace sat at her side, one hand wrapped around her limp fingers, the other braced on his thigh so tight his knuckles were white.
He hadn’t spoken in ten minutes. Not since they brought her in.
The doc had arrived fast—one of the club’s unofficial medics, a former ER nurse they paid under the table. But even she had gone quiet now, lips tight as she worked. Sutures. Gauze. Sterilizer. Old tools. Not enough blood. No hospital, not with the cops sniffing around the Devil’s Sons already.
“She needs a transfusion,” the doc muttered under her breath.
Grimm appeared in the doorway, panting, holding two IV bags in a black med pack. “We got O-neg. From the safe.”
“Hook it up, now,” the doc snapped.
Grimm did, while Ace just sat there. Still. Staring.


“She’s not dying,” he whispered to no one. “She’s not dying. She’s not.”
But the blood was still leaking through the gauze, and her breathing was thin, ragged.
Every sound was louder—every beep of the heart monitor, every cut of the scalpel, every groan she made in her unconscious state. 
He couldn’t take it.
He stood suddenly and punched the wall. Hard.
His knuckles split on the impact. Blood smeared the drywall.
“She was getting out,” Ace said, breathing hard. “She made it out. And I was too late. Again.”
“You weren’t,” Grimm said quietly. “You got there just in time.”
“She’s got a hole in her side,” Ace growled. “You call that in time?”


SAMI-(dreamlike state)
She floated somewhere deep, weightless.
The pain was distant. It came in waves, like someone turning a dial.
Her body didn’t feel like hers. Her hands weren’t moving. Her voice didn’t work. But she could hear.
She could hear Ace.
His voice was like gravel soaked in gasoline—raw, burning, broken.
She heard him curse. Heard the walls rattle from his fists.
She heard him whisper her name. Again and again, like a prayer he didn’t believe in.
And then… she heard her mother.
“Samantha, baby…”
A warm voice. Softer than any memory. A voice she hadn’t heard since she was ten. Back when mom still cared.
“You’re not done yet.”
Sami wanted to speak. Wanted to say: I’m trying.
She wanted to open her eyes and tell Ace she was still here. That she’d tried to run. That she’d stabbed a guard. That she hadn’t been weak. 
But her mouth wouldn’t open. And her heartbeat was fading fast.


REAPER-
The interrogation room was colder than usual. No one said it out loud, but they all knew this wasn’t just about answers.
Ghost sat chained to the chair. Blood soaked his shirt, one eye swollen shut, a cut on his cheek split wide open.
Reaper leaned against the wall, cigarette in hand, rage simmering just below the surface.
“You got two options,” he said calmly. “You talk, or you bleed.”
Ghost spat blood onto the floor. “Already did both.”
“Not even close.”
Reaper stepped forward, pulled a hunting knife from his belt. He knelt in front of Ghost and pressed the blade to the side of his neck—not hard. Just enough to make him sweat.


“Why her?” Reaper asked. “Why the girl? Out of all the ways to hit us, you picked a teenager with nothing to do with club business. Why?”
Ghost smirked. “Because it worked.”
Reaper didn’t flinch.
“You see him unravel out there?” Ghost continued. “Ace. Kid’s got fire. Makes him stupid.”
Reaper pressed harder. “You don’t get to talk about him.”
“I own him now,” Ghost hissed. “Same way I owned you the second she bled out in front of him.”
Reaper’s blade sliced into Ghost’s cheek before he realized his hand had moved.


GRIMM- Outside the room, Grimm stood guard.
He could hear the screaming from both ends of the hallway—Ghost’s, and Ace’s.
He rubbed a hand over his face and leaned back against the wall, jaw clenched.
They’d been through a lot over the years. Lost brothers. Lost patches. Lost blood.
But this felt different. This was personal.
And if Sami didn’t make it… Ace wouldn’t just break. He’d burn everything down.


Grimm pulled his phone out and texted the rest of the crew:
{Lock it down. No one leaves.
We go full blackout. If she dies… Ghost doesn’t make it to morning.} 


Back in the Infirmary – ACE
The monitor beeped. Once. Then again. Steady.
Stronger.
Ace looked up, and for the first time in hours, the doc let out a breath.


“She’s stabilized.”
Ace leaned over Sami, gripping her hand again.
“You hear that?” he whispered. “You’re not done.”
He lowered his forehead to her hand, kissed her bruised knuckles.
“You held on,” he said. “So now I hold on. For you.”
She didn’t open her eyes.
But her fingers twitched in his.