Calla

Three days later, I receive the results of my tests. Everything comes back negative, and I can't tell if the sense of relief is from not having to deal with the cops or that I wasn't raped or sexually assaulted. Maddox and Vance are relieved, too, making the tension that's settled between the three of us ease. The tension isn't because we're annoyed with each other. It's because we're terrified of what's coming next. There's no way to guarantee our safety. Isaiah's friend, Demetri, is keeping Roman high on the radar now that we've filed an official report. There's no proof to say Roman was part of it. Which is why Demetri is investigating the scene behind closed doors. He could lose his job, which isn't something I want, but he made the final decision to investigate. 

I'm not a victim of sexual assault this time around, but I can't seem to shake the trauma. Ever since Lindsay found me, my hands have been shaking and the burn on my leg has been pulsing with white-hot pain. I'm taking the antibiotics the doctor gave me, but I haven't touched the painkillers. Although it hurts like hell, the pain keeps me anchored in reality. I can't predict, based upon Roman's past actions, what his next move will be. It terrifies me. Every time I see my dirt bike, bent and shattered, my heart splits in two. Not only for a wedge being purposely driven between me and my passion, but also for Maddox. Roman has tried to ruin every good aspect in Maddox's life. He's put his son through hell and not once has he felt any remorse for what he's done. The man deserves to rot in hell.

Because we had to cancel the training session today, Vance, Maddox, and I are lounging around the campsite, sticking close to my trailer and the vehicles. We need to be prepared. If Roman or his men arrive, we need fast access to our vehicles. We also have a few bags packed and resting near the entrance of the trailer. If the time to dash comes, we're ready.

For the past two hours, Vance has been studying—surprising, I know. Maddox has been dealing with paperwork for college. I've had a book in my hand, but I've read the same paragraph ten times because of my mind being incapable of focusing. I'm traumatized by someone veering me off of the trail. From laying on the hospital bed in a scratchy gown.

"Fuck," I hear Maddox curse.

"What's up?" Vance asks.

Maddox has been filling out forums regarding work over the summer. He needs to submit them to the college. It's for a bursary he's applied for. I set down the book I've been pretending to read and slide my legs down from the table, converting to a sitting position. My leg aches as I do so. I ignore the pain. 

Maddox tosses his wallet down, sending loose credit cards, his license, and BC medical card spilling across the picnic table. "I don't have my social insurance number. The card is missing—I must have forgotten to grab it."

"Do you really need it?" Vance asks. "Doesn't the college have it on file?"

"No," Maddox replies, his shoulders tense. "I lost my old one, remember? OC gave me an extension to fill in those forums, which I haven't sent in yet. The due date isn't until Monday." He sighs, shaking his head so loose black curls fall around his face. "I'm an idiot. I thought I'd grabbed it!" He stands up and removes his hat, raking a hand through his hair. "I need my SIN number," he murmurs. "And it'll take too long to order another one. I'll be past my extension date before I get it."

Across the picnic table, Vance makes eye contact with me. His gaze is cold and hard, but full of determination. I want to stay as far away from Roman's house as possible, but I will not let the fear of him prevent Maddox from attending college. His medical skills are a talent that needs to be nurtured. Just like his passion for helping people. When I avert my gaze to Maddox, I think back to that day on Terrace Mountain. I remember his calm demeanour and his gentle touch. The way he laughed at me for not being able to handle my blood. He made me feel comfortable and safe. If he can make me trust him, I can't imagine what he'll be able to do for young kids who are hospitalized. Or how he'll charm the pants off of older generations.

"Let's go," I say, keeping my voice firm.

"No," Maddox replies, shooting me a look of disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me, Calla. After what's just happened? I'll—"

"Man," Vance says, punching his cousin in the shoulder. Maddox steps away, rubbing his shoulder. "You're fucking stupid. How many times do I have to tell you we're in this together? You, me, and Calla. You're not entering that house alone."

"He's not there," Maddox argues. "He's on an annual fishing trip with his drug buddies. It happens every year the week before September long weekend. I'll be fine."

"No," I reply, tossing my hair over my shoulder. "We're coming with you. If you've concluded you'll be fine, then so will we, right?"

Maddox pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and says nothing. I exchange another glance with Vance. Judging by his posture, he looks defeated. Judging by the look in his eyes, he's stepped into the role of older brother. It makes me want to cry. Vance is a beautiful soul who's helped Maddox through the rough spots. I'm not undermining Maddox's strength and courage. It's good to know he's had someone to vent to. Keeping your emotions bottled is never good.

"Fine," Maddox sighs. "But we're doing this my way, okay? Keep your shoes on, don't wander—we're in then out, got it?"

While Maddox's bossy attitude pissed me off the other day (mainly because I was distraught), it brings a smile to my face this time. I love his bossy, protective side. It's nice to see him take charge against his father. Also, he doesn't flaunt it. He's subtle and doesn't overuse his authority. Every day, I wonder how he's related to Roman Kase.

"Your rules," Vance nods. "But you're not going alone."

"Fine," Maddox repeats. "Let's go."

Before Vance or I can say anything, Maddox heads for his truck. I walk over to Vance, pausing next to him and watching Maddox. His moves are stiff but precise, making the concern in my chest heighten.

"Is he going to be okay?" I ask.

"I don't know," Vance sighs. "What happened to you has shaken him. It's out of character for Uncle Roman to target anyone besides Maddox. I've interfered many times, but he's never touched me. It's out of character, even for him. It makes me feel like we're walking through a minefield." After Maddox has slammed the driver's door behind him, Vance turns to me. "He'll come around. He's blaming himself. Don't let his attitude get to you."

"It's not him," I admit. "I'm scared to go to his house. Even if Roman is away, who's saying he's not watching the area? Someone like Travis could easily ambush us."

Vance's jaw tics. "If he's there, he's not leaving until his legs are broken."

He storms away before I can say another word.

My hands are shaking again as I turn back to the trailer. I need to lock it before we leave. Leaving the campsite without a camp host to tend to customers isn't something I'm fond of, but I refuse to leave Maddox and Vance.

The pact between me and Vance still stands.

We protect Maddox—no matter the cost.

* * *

The drive  is quiet and tense. I sit in the backseat to give Maddox and Vance some space, but Maddox is too focused to speak with his cousin. His knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel, and his eyes never stray from the road.

When we arrive at Maddox's house, I'm surprised by the size of it, and the neighbourhood he lives in. His house is off to the side, in a more rural area, but it's surrounded by several large houses that scream high income. The outside is quaint and welcoming. Both the hedges and lawn are trimmed to perfection, and rose bushes line the front. 

After Maddox has parked and we've climbed out of the truck, nerves claw at the back of my throat. I don't like the setting. Something feels off. Perhaps I'm paranoid after what happened on the trails, but it feels like eyes are watching me. I wrap my arms around my body, trying to rub away the goose bumps that have spread down my arms, beneath my sweater. We're going to be fast. In and out.

The thought doesn't calm me.

To ease my anxiety, I remove my phone and unlock the screen. Having Isaiah's number on the screen will help. I'll have direct access to his cell number. He'll call 911 for me if I call him.

I've never been inside Maddox's house. I'm expecting a typical drug house: dilapidated screens on the windows, dust coating everything, and mismatched paint colours. What I see when I enter is far from that. Maddox's house is like a mansion. It's pristine and well-kept, save for the odd chemical smell. The floors are a smoky maple. The walls are painted a light grey. Everything, from the couches to the appliances to the lighting, is modern. Everything is sleek and stark, and I'm curious what the rest of the house looks like, but Maddox tugs me upstairs before I can explore. Vance follows close behind. 

Maddox's bedroom is the last one on the right. When he flicks on the light, I'm once again shocked. His room isn't large and lavish like the rest of the house. His room is the exact opposite. It  doesn't match the house. It's small, and the furniture is older. It also lacks character. Maddox doesn't have a lot of belongings in his bedroom, but I do see some books and extra blankets. The interior of his car has more of a personality. The thought causes my mouth to pinch to one side. It's sad Maddox never got to add character to his bedroom. They're supposed to act as personal sanctuaries for when you need space or a period of relaxation. He never got that. 

"Where did you see it last?" Vance asks.

"I can't remember," Maddox replies, jerking open the first drawer he sees. "Search everywhere. Rip apart this bedroom if you have to."

And so the search begins.

For the next five minutes, we search for the white card Maddox needs. It's ridiculous that such a small piece of plastic holds so much significance. He could have checked old income tax files for his SIN number, but I can understand why he wants the hard copy of it. Another person—AKA his dad—could receive his government benefits, tax refunds, or even his bank credits with his SIN card. And, if Roman wanted to stoop even lower, he could reveal Maddox's personal information to unauthorized people, which could lead to identity theft and other types of fraud. Maddox doesn't need any bullshit in his life.

Finally, Vance finds it tucked under the bed, collecting dust.

"Thanks," Maddox says, slipping the card into his wallet. "Let's go. Now." He beelines out of his bedroom, not looking back.

As per usual, Vance and I exchange a glance. He raises his eyebrows and shrugs. "Let's go. This place is giving me the creeps."

I nod, following Vance out of the bedroom. "Did you come here often? Before Maddox's mom left?"

Vance's reaction to my reference is odd. As soon as I mention Maddox's mom, his demeanour changes. He becomes aggravated, rubbing the tattoos on his neck and keeping his gaze on anything but me. "No," he replies, his voice gruff. "Roman has never been a family man. I haven't been here since Hollie left. You would have liked her, Calla. Maddox takes after his mom. That's where his big heart comes from."

I frown. It's strange that Vance would call her by her first name only. He still refers to Roman as Uncle Roman, so why is he just calling Hollie 'Hollie?' I want to press for more information, but Vance's tone is dismissive, making me think this conversation is over.

When we join Maddox at the bottom of the stairs, I know something's wrong. He's standing in the middle of the hallway. His gaze is locked on the door to the garage. He's frowning, too. Vance and I pause behind him.

"What's going on?" Vance asks.

Maddox shushes him, and then I hear the muffled sound of a door slamming. My blood runs cold. I have to grip Vance's arm to prevent myself from falling. This isn't good.

And Maddox knows it.

Turning to us, Maddox spins us around and gives us a shove to the stairs. "You guys need to leave. Hide. I don't care what you do, but get upstairs before he sees you!" He reverts his gaze to Vance. "Get her out of here. There's a trellis you can help her climb down. Please."

His voice cracks at the end because of audible panic.

"I don't understand," Vance says. "You said he was gone."

"He was!" Maddox exclaims. "I don't know why he's here! Fuck, just go, please. You need to—"

The door opens, cutting Maddox off.

Then we're on the move again; Maddox is pulling us into the living room and dashing for the front door. It's a smart move, but it doesn't work. A shape lunges out at me, grabbing me by the arm and ripping me from Maddox's grip. The reverberation of the sudden motion causes me to stumble and hit my head against the bannister. And then Roman is on top of me, pulling me upright by my hair. "Look what we found here," he chuckles. "Maddox brought home a little friend."

Any techniques Isaiah taught me disappear from my mind. I'm frozen, crying out in pain as he tugs my hair, the roots pulling at my scalp. It's painful.

"Is this where you've been hiding all summer? Behind her?"

"Dad," Maddox says, keeping his voice calm. "Leave her alone. She has no part in this."

I glance at Roman, staring into the eyes of a soulless man. He's the one who has made Maddox's life a living hell. The hard set of his jaw and gleaming coldness in his eyes makes me shiver.

Snorting with indifference, Roman shoves me toward Maddox and Vance. Both of them catch me, and Maddox pulls me into his arms. I'm trembling. Although I've never met Roman until now, the rumours have done him justice. I can agree with every single one that's been passed through the grapevine. He's a terrifying man. And although he and Maddox share resemblance, they're also different. Where Maddox's green eyes are bright and sparkly, so full of life, Roman's are cold and hard. They lack a soul. Roman is a hollow void filling a human suit.

With nothing to lose, Roman is terrifying.

Maddox steps in front of me, keeping one hand wrapped around mine.

"Where have you been all summer?" Roman's gaze flicks to Vance. "You're not welcome here."

Slowly, Maddox eases us backward. He's heading past the front door to where the sliding glass door is in the living room. Our steps are slow and painful, but we're making progress. If Maddox can keep Roman talking, we have a chance.

"Stop," Roman spits.

We freeze.

"You've been lying to me all summer, Maddox," he continues. Although there's a significant distance between us, Roman is terrifying even from afar. If we're the mice, then he's the cat, toying with us until all sanity is lost. He shakes his head, loosening a harsh, hollow laugh. "I should've lit that fucking dirt bike on fire."

He stares directly at me, making realization dawn on me. Roman hasn't been fishing all week. He's been watching us. He was the one who veered me off of the trail. I though it had been Travis. 

Maddox shuffles in front of me. "You had no right to hurt her," he growls. 

Because I'm hidden behind Maddox now, I remove my phone and use facial recognition to unlock the screen. Isaiah's number is the first one I see, so I tap on it. I make sure the volume is low so Roman can't hear Isaiah's voice. I'm also aware Roman's watching us, so I continue to flick my gaze around the room, making it look like I'm searching for an escape route instead of calling someone. The next time I glance down at the phone, I see Isaiah has accepted the call. I'm unable to speak to him, so I slip it back in my pocket, hoping he'll hear most of the conversation. Hoping he'll clue in and call Demetri. I hope Demetri will then dispatch resources, including paramedics, here. Just in case.

"I hate to admit it," Roman chuckles. "You had me going for a while. Perhaps I don't give you enough credit. You'll be an excellent addition to the team once you forfeit all other options. Your dirt bike will go first." His gaze flicks over Vance and I. "What to do about prying eyes?" He taps his stubbled chin. 

Maddox's hand tightens around mine. Vance stiffens, and when I glance down, I see his hand is suspended in the air close to Maddox's hip. He's ready to shove Maddox out of the way if he has to. I flick my gaze back up to Roman, praying for the sound of sirens as I take in his appearance. Thick salt-and-pepper locks shadow his creased forehead. His skin is concentrated with scabs in certain areas. It doesn't take a genius to know those scabs aren't from pimples, though. It's a side effect of drug use. And although I'm terrified, shaking my Converse, I can't help but feel bad for Roman. Addiction is a mental illness. My pity doesn't outweigh the hatred directed at him, though. Addiction wasn't his choice, but he made the choice of becoming a drug dealer. He made the choice to abuse his wife and son. He's making the choice to feel no remorse, not an ounce of sorrow for what he's lost.

"They're not prying eyes," Maddox replies. "If you let them go, I'll—"

Roman slams his fist against the wall. The loud thump causes all of us to jump. "No!" he bellows. "I gave you the chance, yet you defied me! Do you not realize how much I've provided for you over the years?" Roman spits. "You ungrateful bastard. I should've dumped you in the foster care system when I had the chance."

The harsh tone of Roman's voice makes fear dig its claws into the lining of my gut.

Come on, Isaiah. Come on. Please. 

It makes me sick hearing Roman claim he's provided for Maddox. Maddox has a roof over his head, but the atmosphere isn't what he deserves. He doesn't deserve to be bloodied and bruised to soothe another man's anger. I want to scream and tell him he's a lost cause if he can justify treating his son like this. But I'm not about to let my mouth be the death of me.

Vance is a different story. 

He shoves past Maddox, standing in front of us. "Are you kidding me? Putting Maddox in the foster care system would've been a goddamned blessing for him. Don't make yourself look like a good guy—you're far from that. How dare you spew such lies!"

"Vance," Maddox murmurs.

I clutch his hand harder. With each second that passes, our chances of escaping dwindle. We need to run. It's the only way we're getting out of here. Unless... unless we can stall until Isaiah and his unit arrive. Stalling feels too risky, though.

An animalistic snarl escapes from somewhere deep in Roman's chest. "You've been part of the problem. You took him away from me. Poisoned his mind. Without your influence, he would be next in line to take over."

Vance rolls his eyes. "Love the wording, Uncle Roman. You're making it sound like he's the heir to a dysfunctional throne. I had nothing to do with your son's judgement. He's smart enough to know the difference between right and wrong."

Roman cocks his head the way a bird does, his hollow eyes locked on Vance.

Warning bells go off in my head. Something's wrong with this situation. It's strange Roman hasn't struck someone with his fist by now. The stories Maddox tells me always resort to violence, which is the route he hasn't taken yet. 

I notice a flash of movement next to Roman's hand.

And so does Maddox.

The next three seconds feel like hours that have been stretched thin as plastic wrap. Maddox shoves me in the opposite direction, sending me careening into the side of the couch, and then dives in the opposite direction. Just as Maddox collides with Vance, a gunshot reverberates through the living room. I jump, maybe even scream, as I cover my ears. Ice spreads through my body, freezing me in place. All I do is stare at Roman. The gun in his hand. 

With my ears ringing, I sink to the floor and press my back against the wall, daring to look at Maddox and Vance.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

He's shot one of them, and I can't tell which one. The blood pooling beneath their bodies is significant, which isn't a good sign. Neither of them are moving, either. A sob lodges itself in my throat. I want it to spill from my mouth, but the tension and fear have me glued to the spot. I can't do anything aside from stare. I'm choking on my emotions. 

Gun in hand, Roman storms over to where Vance and Maddox lay. With one hand, he grabs the collar of Vance's shirt, slamming him against the sliding glass door. "Did you call the cops?" he bellows.

Cops?

I take a moment to remember dialling Isaiah's number. He must've clued in and called Demetri. 

My ears strain for the sound of sirens, which I can now hear getting closer and closer. Hope shoots through me. Someone will catch Roman. He'll go to jail for life. 

From where I'm sitting, I stare at Vance. I've never seen him cower in fear until now. I don't like the fear in his eyes. Nor do I like the way his knees are shaking. However, despite his visible fear, he's still exchanging words with Roman. I hear Maddox's name—

Maddox!

Just as I'm thinking his name, a wet cough pierces through the atmosphere, followed by a painful groan. Stumbling to my feet, I rush over to Maddox and drop beside him. He's bleeding from a wound in his right shoulder. I think the bullet hit an artery. Blood soaks through my leggings as I kneel beside him. I'm a fool for turning my back to Roman and Vance, but I don't care what happens to me anymore. The fear has passed and my blood is now pumping with panicked adrenaline. I tear off my sweater and press it against Maddox's injury. He flinches and groans, but doesn't open his eyes. It alarms me.

"Maddox," I sob. I don't know when the crying started, but the tears are relentless as they scald my cheeks. With limited force, I tap his jaw several times. My fingers leave a smudge of blood across his pale skin. Eventually, he opens his eyes, but the effort is strenuous. He also can't open his eyes fully. From the thin slits of green I can see, his eyes looks slightly glazed over. Everything about him causes the panic to heighten. He's dying. He's losing too much blood. It's soaking through my sweater and leggings and staining my hands. The warmth of his blood makes me sick. 

"I asked you a question!"

My head snaps to my left. Roman's forearm is pressed across Vance's throat, making it difficult for him to breathe. So much so that Vance is clawing at his uncle's arm. His eyes are pleading. My gaze slides down to the loaded gun in Roman's hand. His finger is near the trigger, ready to pull it whenever he sees fit.

Thankfully, Roman eases his grip, giving Vance a chance to gasp for air. "Of course I did," he rasps. "Maddox needs an ambulance. You're a fool if you think I'm going to let him die."

"The shot wasn't meant for him."

Vance snorts as he greedily gulps in air. "Whether you intended to shoot Maddox, that shot was always intended for him. That kid will stop at nothing to protect the people he loves."

The sorrow, guilt, and regret in Vance's voice makes me sob harder. He was trying to prevent Maddox from getting hurt, and it backfired. 

"C-Calla," Maddox chokes. 

I glance down at him, pressing harder on the wound. He cries out in pain again. "You're g-going to be okay," I sob. "S-stay with me, M-Maddox." 

His eyes flutter shut as a small grunt comes from his mouth. He's still breathing, but it's getting harder and harder for him, that much I can tell. It's only a matter of time before the blood loss knocks him unconscious. I'm surprised the pain hasn't already done so.

My gaze flicks back up just in time to see Roman yank Vance forward and then smash his head against the sliding glass door. The impact is so hard the glass cracks.

The crack is nothing compared to the gun that's pressed against Vance's temple.

"Love," Roman snorts. "Is fickle." He presses the gun harder into Vance's temple. "Love will not save you now." His finger rests on the trigger, threatening to pull it.

Vance squeezes his eyes shut, a tear slipping down his cheek. His body is shaking, as if he's sobbing on the inside. "Calla," he says, his voice shaking. "Look away. Don't look."

"Vance," I sob, keeping pressure on Maddox's shoulder. The blood has seeped through my sweater, coating my hands in the warm, sticky substance. There's also a potent copper smell in the air. It makes my stomach do an uneasy flip.

"Look. Away. Calla."

A sob breaks free from my lips as I press my face into Maddox's hair. At some point, his hat fell off. When I take a deep breath, willing myself to block out what's happening next to me, I smell his shampoo and the faint scent of pine. I try to let it anchor me, as it did before Lindsay took me to the hospital or when Maddox and I first kissed. I don't know who's going to survive this mess, but I know they can't live without each other. If Maddox loses Vance or Vance loses Maddox, it'll destroy them. They're brothers. 

They... they could make it without me. Losing a family member is much harder than losing a friend or lover—the pain will eventually heal. Losing a loved one stings for the rest of your life. I need to tell Roman I'm the one who called the police. Maybe his attention will shift to me and give Vance a chance to save Maddox. 

Another gunshot ricochets through the room. A scream escapes my mouth as something thumps behind me. I cower against Maddox's body, aware that his breathing has slowed, and the blood hasn't. He's going to die just like Vance did. And so am I. Now that Roman's taken care of Vance, I'm the only one left.

"On your knees!" a voice bellows.

I glance up from Maddox's hair, a sob of relief escaping my lips when I see several officers, including Demetri. And when I glance over my shoulder to see who they're talking to, a sob of relief escapes my lips. Aside from the blood spattered across Vance's face and a small trickle coming from his shoulder, he's alive and breathing. With his hands up, Vance drops to his knees.

When my gaze travels further down, I see Roman lying in a worthless heap. His shoulders aren't moving. The gun is on the floor, forgotten. Blood stains the hardwood. 

It's over.

"Get the paramedics in here! NOW! Calla!"

Demetri rushes over to Maddox and I while the rest of his unit deals with Roman's body and Vance. I'm concerned they're going to be rough with him, thanks to his proximity to Roman, but they're not. They help him up in a cautious manner, making sure he's unarmed. 

"Come on, Calla," Demetri coos, coaxing me to my feet. "He'll be okay. The paramedics are here."

When I make eye contact with Isaiah, I notice the doubt lingering in his gaze. Another sob breaks free. No. This can't be the end. Maddox has a life ahead of him—one that he deserves. He can't die. His only chance of survival lies with the paramedics. So, without arguing, I allow Demetri to guide me to the exit while the paramedics tend to Maddox. Ahead, I can see several police cars, a fire truck, and two ambulances. Neighbours line the streets, their curious faces trying to get an idea of what happened here. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a paramedic kneeling beside Roman's unmoving body. The woman who has two fingers pressed to Roman's neck shakes her head. Her lips are pursed, but she doesn't look upset. Either she's had excellent training in hiding her emotions or she feels no sympathy for a man that's deserved to die since he laid a hand on Maddox.

Isaiah gives me a light push. "Come on, Calla. There's nothing left to see."

* * *

After two hours of giving statements and explaining what happened, Vance and I leave the scene of the crime. I wasn't cooperative at first. Not until Demetri could get an update on Maddox's condition. The bullet hit his brachial artery and skimmed the underside of his brachial plexus—a major network of nerves that transmit signals responsible for motor and sensory innervation of the upper extremities, including the shoulder, arm, and hand. Any other day, I'd call myself smart for being able to remember the information from the doctor we talked to, but I'm too shaken to do so. Maddox is stable, and he's going to make it. He's just gotten out of emergency surgery. He needed surgery to repair some blood vessel damage and make sure his nerves didn't take too much of an impact.

The only other injuries from today include stitches atop Vance's shoulder, where the bullet Demetri shot skimmed him. It's terrifying to think the bullet that killed Roman, the one that went straight through his cold heart, clipped Vance.

We arrive at the hospital within twenty minutes .Isaiah, Lindsay, Laurel, and Vance's mom, Stella, are already there when we arrive. Vance and I exchange hugs with everyone, but we're not enthusiastic about it. Maddox is in a medically induced coma. We want to see him. I want proof he's breathing.

I need to see him.

However, before we can do that, Lindsay gives us each a bag and tells us to get changed. She also informs me Mom and Dad are on their way home. Apparently, Mom lost her mind when she heard what happened. We don't argue with Lindsay. I want out of these blood-stained clothes. I want to burn them and the memories of today. 

By the time we're done changing, Isaiah has located the doctor. She's a young woman in her mid-thirties, with red glasses and dark brown hair. Her smile is tight-lipped, but I'm assuming it's because of the seriousness of this situation. God knows it's going to be all over the news tonight. If the Kase family name wasn't well-known before, then it sure as hell is now. 

Because Stella and Vance are Maddox's only family members, the doctor insists he talks to them and them alone. But Vance is stubborn. "I'm not going anywhere unless Calla comes."

"Vance," Stella says. "Don't make things difficult."

Vance loops his arm through mine and shakes his head. It seems childish, but after what's gone on today, I don't want to separate from him. Aside from Maddox, he's the only one who saw and heard everything. Roman was watching us the whole time, and the trauma is affecting both of us. Although Roman's dead, it feels like eyes are on us. "Nope. Calla comes with us. I'm not leaving her."

"Very well," the doctor sighs. "Follow me."

We crowd into a small examination room down the hall. It's your typical examination room: white with informative posters, a bed covered in tissue paper, and a sink with lots of storage around it. A scale sits in the far corner. Vance and I lean against the bed. Dr. Gray lingers by the door. Stella sits down on a stool, looking frazzled. 

"When do we get to see him?" Vance asks as soon as the doctor has closed the door.

"Soon," she replies. "First, we need to discuss the injuries Mr. Kase has sustained."

"Don't call him that!" I snap. "Maddox isn't his father."

Stella gives me a dirty glare, but I shrug it off. Fuck her. She could've kept Maddox safe, but she didn't. Years will pass before Stella earns a spot in my good books.

"Calm down," Vance mutters. "She's doing her job." 

"Very well," the doctor—Dr. Gray replies. "Maddox's surgery went well, and he's going to be fine. We're expected to ease him out of the coma within the next two days. We're giving him time to recover from the blunt trauma he faced. As you know, the bullet skimmed his brachial plexus. He will have issues with the motor function of his right arm. The damage is minor, but there's a chance he'll need nerve therapy to repair the damage. That's only if the healing process doesn't work properly, though."

"Will he still be able to dirt bike?" Vance demands. "Become a nurse?"

"Vance," Stella says. "Those questions aren't important."

Vance shrugs his mom off. "Yes, they are, Mom."

"Yes," Dr. Gray replies. Her voice is calm but firm. "What I mean is there will be a permanent reminder of what happened today. He will regain control of his motor functions, but there will be a lingering pain. His right arm may also not be able to bear as much weight as his left. But I can assure both of you, this injury will not affect hobbies or future careers. Miss Henrik and Mr. Cameron, Maddox will be okay. Our technology for nerve therapy has evolved for this very reason." She rests a hand on her clipboard. "Only if he needs it, though. Time will tell. Now, would you like to see him?"

I breathe a sigh of relief. He'll be able to ride. He'll be able to become a nurse. "Am I allowed to come see him? Aside from Vance, he doesn't have any family." I leave Stella's name out of it. I'm pissed at her. I'm pissed at the world.

The doctor hesitates before nodding. "Judging by the situation Maddox is currently in, we will allow friends in."

"Girlfriend," I correct.

"Of course," she nods respectfully. She turns to open the door. "If you'll follow me..."

We follow Dr. Gray down the stark-white hallway, breathing in the potent smell of antiseptic. It makes me feel like I'm amid a horror movie. I'm still covered in specks of blood, despite wearing fresh clothes; it's crusted in my hair and beneath my fingernails. I don't want to vomit in the middle of the hallway, so I keep my gaze locked on the ICU ahead. 

As we're walking, Vance laces his fingers with mine and gives my hand a squeeze. The world is moving, but it feels like we're stuck. Walking down the hallway of Kelowna General Hospital doesn't feel real. I feel like I'm stuck in a nightmare.

Vance's hand is the only thing that seems plausible.

I squeeze it back as we enter.

Maddox's bed is on the left. He's been intubated, and the sight makes my throat uncomfortable. It's a good thing he's sedated. I can't imagine being conscious and having that tube shoved down your throat. My eyes prickle with tears as I look him over. There tubes everywhere and several machines surround him, beeping and making strange noises. His shoulder has also been tightly bandaged. It's a scary sight, but the colour that's returned to his cheeks overpowers the negatives. He's not flushed or anywhere near normal, but I can see faint splotches of pink. His hair is tousled, as if they washed the blood from it before bringing him to the ICU, making it curl against his forehead. 

I lean my head against Vance's shoulder, a sob breaking free. He pulls me into his arms and hugs me tightly, despite his injury. I keep my gaze away from his neck, not wanting to see the thick bruise across his throat. 

Maddox is okay. He's alive.

Roman is dead.

I don't know where the next few weeks will take us.

I cling to Vance while I cry, and Vance clings to me. He squeezes me so tightly I can barely breathe. 

It's over.