Chapter Eleven
1400 Words
Night did not arrive gently.
It crashed all at once.
There was blackness first, then sound before meaning. Monitors beeped too fast to count. Shoes slapped against tile. Voices overlapped, urgent and sharp, none of them slowing down for comprehension.
“We’re losing pressure. Keep pressure!”
The words blurred together as double doors flew open.
A gurney barreled through the hallway carrying Scarlet Mangione. She was barely conscious, blood streaked into her hairline, eyes glassy and unfocused. Her body jerked with the motion, pain written into every shallow breath.
A nurse gripped her shoulder, firm and grounding.
“Scarlet. Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes.”
Scarlet groaned and turned her head.
Another gurney rushed past in the opposite direction.
Henry.
His arm was wrapped in white gauze already blooming red. Blood seeped through the bandage, dark and undeniable. His face was pale but alert, eyes wide when they found hers. For one suspended second, the world narrowed to that look. Fear, naked and childlike.
Then bodies moved between them. Doors opened. Orders were shouted. And they were pulled apart without ceremony. Another gurney came into view.
Pierce.
He was frighteningly still. His skin had gone pale beneath the harsh hospital lights. An oxygen mask fogged faintly with shallow breaths that looked like they might stop at any moment.
“Entry wound left thorax. Lung involvement, immediate chest tube needed. Get an intubation tray while you’re at it.”
While the young resident hurried off to gather supplies, Cade was right there, moving with the gurney, one hand gripping the rail like it was the only solid thing left in the world.
“Pierce. Hey. Hey, I’m here.”
A security guard stepped directly into his path. “Sir, you can’t go past this point.”
“That’s my boyfriend.” The word slipped out before Cade could stop it. It landed between them, fragile and unprotected.
The guard did not flinch. “You still can’t.”
Cade tried to push past him. Then again, harder.
“You don’t get it. He’s scared of hospitals. He hates them. I need to stay with him.”
The guard braced. “Sir.”
“Don’t touch me.” Cade lunged.
Two hands grabbed him from behind, instinctive and synchronized.
“Cade. Cade. Hey. Hey. Look at me. Look at me.”
Cade thrashed once more, then stopped. His chest heaved, breath coming in broken pulls.
The operating room doors swung open. Pierce’s gurney disappeared inside.The doors slammed shut.
A red light flicked on above them.
“No. No, no, no.”
Cade’s knees buckled. Quinn caught him before he hit the floor, arms locking tight around his torso.
A few feet away, Ward stood frozen, blood flecked across the sleeve of his jacket. He stared over a nurse’s shoulder at a tablet glowing with vitals, lips moving silently as he read.
“Oxygen saturation dipped but stabilized. Chest tube pending. Okay.”
“Ward, tell me what’s happening."
He blinked and refocused.“Okay. Okay. Listen. Pierce went to surgery because they can help him there. That's actually good.”
Cade looked up at him, eyes wild and desperate. “Good how?”
Ward swallowed. He chose every word like it might explode if handled wrong.
“It meant they caught it fast. It meant he was breathing when he got here. It means the OR is the right room for him to be in.”
Cade nodded, barely. Down the hall, a sharp cry of pain sliced through the noise. Henry.
Cade flinched. “Where’s Henry?”
“Trauma bay two. Arm wound. He’s conscious.”
Ward turned away before Cade could ask anything else.
The hallway spread out in a wide, merciless frame. Cade slumped against the wall, Quinn crouched in front of him, hands still braced like Cade might collapse again. Soren paced with his hands locked behind his head, footsteps uneven. Ward sat rigid in a chair, elbows on his knees, replaying every decision that had led here.
A nurse walked past them, gloves soaked red.
No one stopped her. No one spoke. The red operating room light stayed on. Later, the waiting area was too bright for how late it was. Plastic chairs lined the walls. Bad art hung crooked. A coffee machine hummed uselessly in the corner. The boys sat scattered, hollowed out by exhaustion.
Ward stood when a doctor approached with a chart in hand. Cade was on his feet before the doctor even slowed.
“That’s his doc? That’s his room?” Cade asked anxiously, panic lacing his voice.
Ward lifted a hand, just a little. Not dismissive. Grounding.
The doctor nodded at Ward. “You’re the medical student?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Here’s what we have.” Ward listened like his life depended on it, because emotionally it did. "Pierce is still in surgery. Gunshot wound to the chest. They’re repairing vascular damage and monitoring his lungs.”
Cade gripped the back of a chair. “Still in surgery means…”
“It means it’s serious, but not hopeless,” Ward said before the doctor could. “They wouldn’t still be operating if they didn’t think they could stabilize him.”
The doctor studied Ward, then nodded. “Exactly.”
Cade nodded too, jaw clenched so hard it shook.
“Scarlet lost a significant amount of blood,” the doctor continued. “She was hypotensive when she arrived. She was unconscious, but stable. We transfused her and we’re monitoring closely.”
“Can we see her?”
“Not yet.”
That landed heavier than bad news.
“She needs rest,” Ward said quietly. “Seeing people could spike vitals.”
Cade nodded again, mechanical.
“Mr. Moore should be out shortly.”
As if summoned, Henry appeared at the end of the hall. His arm was in a sling. He was pale but upright. A nurse trailed him with a chart and a paper cup.
“Henry, please. Your blood pressure is elevated. The medication will help.”
“I’m not taking it.”
“You were shot.”
“In the arm. It was more of a graze.”
He stopped when he saw them.
Relief hit first, then something more complicated.
Quinn stood and pulled Henry into a careful one armed hug. “Jesus, man.”
Henry exhaled into him, grounding himself.
“Henry, we’re not asking. You’re in pain.”
“Oh, I’m aware.”
“We can manage it responsibly.”
Henry looked at the cup like it was a trap. “I don’t want opioids.”
Ward stepped in. “He has a family history of substance use. NSAIDs. Regional block if needed. We could manage it.”
The nurse sighed. “Fine. But if your pain escalates.”
“I’ll ask.” Henry sank into a chair once she left. The adrenaline drained out of him all at once.
Silence stretched. “Where’s Pierce?” Henry looked up, the question heavy.
“Still in surgery.”
“Okay.”
“That’s not an ‘okay’ okay.”
Cade finally looked at Ward.
“You promised me the system worked.”
“I promised I’d tell you the truth.”
That was all he had left.
Pre-dawn hollowed the waiting area further. Phones buzzed nonstop with speculation they did not have the energy to correct.
Ward stood alone with his phone.
“You calling his parents?” Cade inquired.
Ward nodded.
“I should do that,” Cade argued.
“You shouldn’t.”
“He’d want me to.”
“I know. That’s why I’ll do it.”
The call was short. It was brutal. When Ward came back, Cade already knew, but he asked anyway.
“They’re on their way?” Ward shook his head sadly. “Oh...Okay.”
It was not okay.
A doctor approached again. “Pierce Reed is out of surgery. He’s been transferred to ICU four. He’s resting comfortably.”
Then the overhead intercom cut through everything.
Code blue. ICU four. Code blue.
Ward froze.
“That’s his room,” Cade began to panic, seeing doctors rushing through the locked door separating him from the man he loves, whom he has been in love with for years, waiting patiently for Pierce to discover his identity.
The ICU doors slammed shut.
Red light flashing.
No one could follow.
- Writer
