Chapter 2 It's not how I'd have imagined putting my hands on her for the first time. But circumstances left me no choice. Nor did they leave me time to treat her gently. It's either I throw the woman aside like a ragdoll, or she'll eat one of the bullets that are flying down the corridor. So, with one hand still cradling Luka to my chest, I loop the other hand around the doctor's slim waist and drag her to the floor with us. Then I plaster my bulk on top of both of them. If bullets come, let them hit me first. I can take it. The boy and the woman? They cannot. Her knees hit the floor hard. I expect blubbering, more of the kind I'm hearing from behind the nurse's station. But when I arch up enough to look at her, the doctor's powder blue eyes are clear, dry, and laser-focused on Luka. Her face is drained of color, her sandy brown hair plastered across her face-but she looks calm. Reaching out awkwardly, she presses two fingers to Luka's sallow throat to check his pulse. He looks worse than he did when we first arrived. All light of consciousness is gone from his eyes, though they aren't quite closed yet. An unholy groan passes through his lips on every exhale. The mere sound of it makes me want to tear the walls of this place to the fucking ground, if only to find someone who can save him. But that someone might be literally pinned beneath me. The doctor's mouth sets in a grim twist as she withdraws her fingers from the hollow beneath Luka's jaw. "He needs epinephrine." She wriggles out from beneath me and starts to clamber back to her feet. "Get the fuck-" I grab her arm for the second time and yank her back down, just as a bullet narrow misses her head and smashes into the green-tiled wall behind us. "-down. Jesus, woman, where do you think you're going?" Her blue eyes flash, bright and hot. "I'm trying to save your son's life," she hisses back. "He's my nephew. And you're not going to be able to do shit with those mudaki popping off like the Fourth of fucking July out there." She cranes her head towards the nurse's station. "Sonya, initiate lockdown procedure." Her order is direct, confident. Not once does her voice shake. I can't say that the nurses she works with have the same presence of mind. Sonya, the willowy twig of a woman I was yelling at earlier, merely gulps. Her eyes are dinner plates, huge and round. They see, but they do not compute. The doctor tries again. "Sonya! Lockdown! We have to make sure the shooters can't get into any of the patient rooms." Another nurse, whose hair is streaked with grey, jumps into action and reaches to smash a button under the station that I can't see. I'm guessing it's a silent alarm because I can't hear anything except more gunshots and distant screams. "Shit, shit, shit," the doctor mutters. She glances all around us and then down the long, empty corridor. "There's a medical room just down the hall. I should be able to find an EpiPen in there." She shrugs me off again and crouches low like a sprinter in the starting block. "At the risk of repeating myself," I growl, "where the fuck do you think you're doing?" She doesn't even bother looking at me. I'd be irritated at her disrespect if I didn't almost admire the sheer audacity. Not many people in my life would follow in her footsteps here. "If he doesn't get a shot of epinephrine in the next few minutes," she explains, "his throat will close up completely and he won't be able to breathe. Which means he will die. I have to get to that medical room ASAP. Unless you'd prefer the former option?" I look down at the boy. He's got my nose, a little too big and far too proud. A Roman emperor's nose, I always tease him. You and I, we're ancient royalty. Or at least, that's what I used to tease him with. If he doesn't get this EpiPen, I might not get to make that joke ever again. "Fine." I nod shortly. "But not without cover." I balance Luka tight against my chest, using one hand to hold him up while my free hand reaches for the gun holstered at my hip. The moment I pull it out, the doctor's eyes go wide, a flush of panic zooming up to stain her cheeks pink. It's probably not the right moment to notice, but she's extremely fucking pretty. "They're here because of you," she gasps. I'm surprised it took her this long to put two and two together. She's no idiot; that much is certain. "They're certainly not here for the fucking cafeteria food," I grumble as I rack the slide and pop off the safety. She starts scooting away from me, eyes never leaving my gun. "Don't even think about squirming away," I warn her. "You have to help me." Her lips curl back from her teeth. Feisty even now. Again, I find myself admiring it more than I do despising it. How strange. "I don't have to do a damn thing." "You realize I have a gun, right?" Her eyes widen but her jaw only tightens with defiance. "You think I'm afraid of your big metal toy?" "I'm not asking for me; I'm asking you to help my nephew. He's eight years old and innocent in all this. And if you don't save him, he's going to die. You said it yourself. So, come to think of it, I'm not really asking at all." I point the gun at her. "Go get the fucking EpiPen, Doctor." Her eyes go wide. But I can tell that I've said the magic words. She's back in patient saving mode. "Fine. Let's get to the supply room." She doesn't wait for my instructions. In fact, she seems to think that she's the one in charge. "Give me your nephew. What's his name?" "Luka," I grit without relinquishing control. "And he stays with me." "Don't be stupid. You can't cover me and hold him at the same time. Give me the boy and for fuck's sake, point that thing at the bad guys, you idiot." So be it. I won't argue with good reason. Not at a time like this. Grinding my molars together, I hand her Luka. Then I twist around and look out, my Smith & Wesson ready to prove just how capable it is. Big metal toy, my ass. I see men who don't belong here clustering down at the end of the hallway. Four of them in my line of sight, too brawny and brutish for a children's hospital. I rise from where we've been crouched, then I aim, exhale, fire. One falls. Three left. "Go," I bark out of the side of my mouth, toward where the feisty doctor is still kneeling, caught in shock. "In three, two... now." I fire again. And then there were two. Behind me, the doctor scoops up Luka and waddles up the hall as fast as she can. I empty my clip in the direction of the attackers to keep them pinned down in their hiding spots. I'll run out of bullets before they run out of breath, but so long as she and Luka get where they're going, that's fine. I'll finish the motherfuckers with a stapler to the carotid if I have to. Won't be my first time. I retreat as I unload. Bam, bam, bam⁠- Chhhk. Empty chamber. No more bullets. I peek over my shoulder to see Luka's bobbing head disappear through a door at the end of the hall. With a snarl, I follow them in. The moment I'm on the inside, I slam it shut and bar the way with one of the massive grey filing cabinets clustered on the side. Thankfully, they're not attached to the walls, but the metallic wail of it dragging across damp tile sets my teeth on edge. I turn to find the doctor in the furthest corner of the room. She has laid Luka out on the floor and now, she's rummaging around between the tall shelves trying to search for an EpiPen. "Come on, come on," she mumbles to herself. "Stop hiding from me, you little bastards." I cross the room to Luka's side. The swelling on his lips has spread to his face. He looks ghastly, too pale and too frail. That ugly, keening moan he was making earlier has died down to a sad little whistle. His body is sealing up on him like a fucking mausoleum. My hands are shaking as I lean down to check his pulse. "Hurry the fuck up! He's barely breathing." "Step aside," she orders. "I need room." Her touch is feather-light on my bicep, but it's like she hit me in the chest with a sledgehammer. I retreat backwards as she drops to her knees beside Luka. She rolls up Luka's pant leg, bites off the pen's cap, and raises it high. In one precise move, she plunges the needle into his thigh. Now, I'm the one not breathing. The room is silent. The doctor doesn't make a peep. Neither does Luka. Neither do I. Even the gunshots have died down for now. "Come on," she whispers. "Come on... Breathe for me, Luka, breathe for me." He doesn't move. He doesn't so much as twitch. I'm about to lose my fucking mind... when suddenly, Luka sucks in a huge gulp of air. His eyelids careen open, closed, open, closed fighting against the invisible hooks dragging them closed. Then they open and stay open. His eyes find mine. He smiles. And I crumble to my goddamn knees.