CHAPTER 9 PULSE OF A GHOST
1375 Words
The flatline was a scream.
Long.
Shrill.
Unforgiving.
BEEEEEEEEEEP
Jaxon felt the sound tear straight through his skull. It wasn’t just a noiseit was a verdict. A final sentence. A cruel echo of everything he feared most.
“Move!” one of the medics shouted, shoving equipment aside.
Another grabbed the defibrillator paddles, yelling, “Charge to two hundred!”
Lena clutched her chest, frozen in place. Her breath came out in tiny, broken gasps as she stared at Rafe’s unmoving body.
Jaxon however didn't freeze.
He collapsed forward, grabbing Rafe’s hand with both of his. “Rafe! Don’t you dare leave me!”
The medic snapped, “Jaxon, back! We can’t shock him with you touching”
“I’m not letting go!” Jaxon roared, shaking.
The medic hesitated then Bishop lunged forward, pulling Jaxon away with brute force. “Let them work!”
Jaxon fought him like an animal. He thrashed, fists flying, teeth clenched, tears burning the corners of his eyes.
“Let me go! RAFE!”
Bishop held on, his arms locked around Jaxon’s shoulders. “He needs the shock! Do you hear me? He needs the shock!”
“CLEAR!” the medic yelled.
The first shock hit Rafe’s body.
His chest jolted violently then fell still.
Jaxon tore himself from Bishop’s grip and stumbled toward the table. “No, no, noRafe, breathe!”
“Charging to three hundred!”
Lena covered her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Please, please don’t take him,”
Jaxon leaned over Rafe, his voice a raw whisper. “You hear me, brother? I’m not done with you. You don’t get to leave me again.”
“CLEAR!”
Another shock.
Rafe’s body jumped
And collapsed.
The monitor stayed dead.
A long, hopeless flatline.
The medic’s eyes darkened. “No response.”
“No,” Lena whispered, shaking her head. “Please, try again!”
“Charging to three-fifty!” another medic barked. They weren’t giving up.
Jaxon pressed his forehead to Rafe’s, tears finally slipping free. “You survive everything. Every beating, every nightmare, every hell Viktor put you through. Don’t fail now. Not now. Not after we found each other.”
His voice broke. “I’m right here. Come back to me.”
The medic’s voice shook. “CLEAR!”
The third shock hit.
Rafe’s body jerked
The monitor flickered
A blip.
Another.
Then a weak, unstable rhythm began pulsing through the speakers.
Beep, Beep,
Beep,Beep,
“WE’VE GOT HIM!” the medic yelled.
Lena gasped and fell to her knees, sobbing with relief.
Jaxon went rigid then exhaled a ragged breath that nearly dropped him to the floor. He grabbed the table, staring at the tiny blips like they were miracles.
The medic quickly stabilized lines and adjusted Rafe’s oxygen mask.
“He’s critical,” the medic warned. “But alive.”
Jaxon closed his eyes, whispering, “Thank you,”
Lena rose shakily and threw her arms around him from behind. “He’s okay, Jaxon, he’s okay,”
But Jaxon didn’t fully relax.
Because “alive” wasn’t the same as “safe.”
He stroked Rafe’s hair back gently. “You did good, brother. Rest now. I’ve got the rest.”
Twenty Minutes Later
Rafe lay unconscious but stable, hooked up to machines that beeped steady but fragile. Medics hovered like shadows, adjusting tubes and checking vitals.
Jaxon never left his side.
Lena sat close by, her hand resting lightly on Jaxon’s back for comfort as much as for anchoring herself.
Finally, Bishop stepped forward.
His voice was low. “Jaxon.”
Jaxon didn’t look up. “Not now.”
“We need to move.”
Jaxon shot him a glare so sharp it could have cut metal. “I’m not abandoning him.”
“You’re not,” Bishop said firmly. “But Viktor’s men are moving. We intercepted communications he knew Rafe survived. He knows you’re at a resistance safehouse.”
Lena stiffened. “How? We came here in a sealed van.”
“Viktor has eyes everywhere,” Bishop replied. “And ears.”
Jaxon rose to his full height. He stood between Rafe and everyone else. “Let them come.”
Bishop sighed. “You want to die tonight?”
Jaxon didn’t blink. “If it means Rafe lives, yes.”
Lena stepped between them. “Stop. Both of you.”
She took Jaxon’s hand firm but gentle.
“You’re not dying tonight,” she whispered. “And you’re not giving Viktor the satisfaction of cornering you again.”
She squeezed his hand harder. “Rafe needs you alive. I need you alive.”
Jaxon’s breath stilled.
Her eyes shimmered with sincerity so intense it made him forget the pain clawing through his ribs.
The bishop watched the exchange and finally spoke. “We’re relocating Rafe to a deeper bunker. Hidden. Guarded.” He looked at Jaxon. “And you’re coming with me.”
Jaxon’s jaw tightened. “Where?”
Bishop unfolded a tablet showing a map. A blinking red point glowed in the mountains.
“Viktor’s stronghold,” Bishop said. “The real one.”
Jaxon felt his pulse grow heavy and sharp.
“At dawn, we go after him,” Bishop said. “But tonight, we will prepare.”
Jaxon looked at Rafe again. Machines hummed softly beside him.
“I’m not leaving him.”
“You won’t,” Bishop replied. “But you can’t stay here.”
The medic stepped over, wiping his hands. “He’s stable now. A strong fighter. He’ll hold it until morning.”
Jaxon looked unconvinced. “If he wakes up”
“We’ll call you the second he moves,” the medic promised.
Jaxon’s shoulders sagged with conflict.
Lena placed her hand on his cheek. “He’s safe, Jaxon. And he’d want you to go.”
Jaxon closed his eyes, leaning into her touch for the briefest moment. “I don’t know how to walk away.”
“You’re not walking away,” she whispered. “You’re walking toward the only future where he survives.”
Jaxon took a breathdeep, painful, but resolute.
He nodded.
“Fine. I’m going.”
Lena exhaled with relief.
Bishop signaled his team. “Get him ready.”
Jaxon leaned down one last time. He pressed his forehead to Rafe’s.
Quiet.
Steady.
Brother to brother.
“I’m coming back,” Jaxon whispered. “And when I do, Viktor will never touch you again.”
He squeezed Rafe’s hand gently.
“Rest, brother.”
Later The Armory
Bright lights hummed. Metal racks lined the walls. Bishop’s team armed themselves with rifles, explosives, knives, and gear polished to a military shine.
Jaxon stood at a table, strapping on a tactical vest. He moved with silent purpose, no wasted motion.
Lena watched him from the doorway, drawn in by the sight of him focused, controlled, and dangerous.
She approached slowly. “You’re really going through with this.”
“Yes.”
“Even if it kills you.”
“Especially if it ends him.”
Lena stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
“Jaxon, before you walk into hell tomorrow, I want you to know something.”
He stopped.
She took a shaky breath.
“I didn’t just care about you back in the arena,” she whispered. “I care about you now. Here. When you’re angry. When you’re scared. When you’re trying to hide it.”
Her voice softened.
“I care about the broken parts you try to pretend aren’t there.”
Jaxon stared at her, stunned speechless.
She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his.
“And I’m not losing you. Not now. Not ever.”
Jaxon’s breath trembled.
“Lena,”
He reached up slowly, and cupped her face.
Their lips hovered inches apart.
Before they could close the distance
Bishop shouted from across the room:
“Move out! It’s time!”
Jaxon pulled away reluctantly.
Lena exhaled softly, her cheeks flushed.
“Come back alive,” she whispered.
He touched her chin gently. “I will.”
Then he turned, grabbing his weapons.
Walking toward the fight that would decide everything.
Behind him, Lena touched her lips,
Wishing she had kissed him
before he walked into war.
- Writer
