Ryon held out his hand. “Give me your knife.” Reece withdrew his blade, looked at it for long moments, then handed it over. “Mind telling me what you plan on doing with that?”
“Just watch.”
Her neck looked like chewed red meat. It’d been chomped on, ligaments severed. Broken into savage pieces.
He’d triaged soldiers before, even friends, but this—seeing the woman he loved hurt, shook him on a whole other level.
The flesh of her neck was torn up enough, that in a way, made what he was about to do easier.
Ryon cut into the wound, worsening it and causing a fresh resurgence of blood—what little she had.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Reece shouted, stepping forward to intervene.
Lyle shook his head at him. “Let’s see for ourselves.”
Ryon might have laughed if Penelope’s life wasn’t, literally, in his hands.
The blood came, surging, squirting from severed veins, and with it—venom. Dark, royal blue, swirling almost like black viscous oil. The venom had penetrated deep into her body. With how much blood she’d lost, the poison had to be completely pumped out. He literally needed to drain it from her, and hope she’d have enough blood left to survive.
Sweat dripped into his eyes. He swiped it away with his shoulder, breathing hard with focus.
“She’ll need a transfusion,” he said, an afterthought. His eyes and mind were absorbed on the task at hand.
The oozing venom, thicker and stickier than blood, slowly started to ooze out of her veins. Her slight breaths pushed more and more out. He gently stroked the veins to relieve more of the poison.
“Stay with me, Pen. Don’t go now,” he whispered to her. He didn’t know if she could hear him or not. There was so much he wanted to say. And he needed her to be alive and well for it.
“She’s losing too much blood,” a guard said, looking rather pale himself.
Lyle was stiff as a board. “Ryon, maybe you should---”
“No!” He cut him off viciously. “Don’t tell me what to do. Not now. I’m so close. Have to focus…” he trailed off, coaxing more poison from her.
Her chest rose, scarcely an inch of depth.
So much blood, coating in a thick pool that was soaking into the earth. It covered his hands making them wet and slick. He told his brain to ignore that. To remain focused. Her life depended on it.
If only it was that easy!
But every single thought, every single breath, every single action seemed to take him ten times longer than normal, moving agonizingly slowly as he fought to make the right choices.
The blood depleted to dripping drops of black venom. He could only hope he’d removed all of it, or the majority of it. Anything, to save her life.
Her chest exhaled and her shoulders sagged. No more movement.
Ryon froze, eyes afraid of seeing the truth.
He waited for her to take her next breath.
It didn’t come.
“She’s dead,” someone gasped.
No! No! No!
She was not dead. He refused to let her die. He refused to allow her death on his hands. She would live, God damnit!
He began trying to resuscitate her, pulsing his fists over her ribcage and heart for ten long seconds, then he opened her mouth, pinched her nose closed, and breathed air into her mouth. Again. Then again. He didn’t stop. He fell into a rhythm of palpitating her heart, breathing into her mouth, then checking for a pulse on the un-chewed side of her neck.
Seconds passed. Then a full minute.
“She’s dead, my friend,” Lyle said, emotion heavy in his voice.
No. He refused to believe it. She wasn’t dead unless he said so.
He continued resuscitation.
Pump, pump, pump. Breathe, breathe. Repeat.
Another minute passed.
“Stop him already! She’s dead. Show her some respect!” The guard who dared to speak was promptly silenced.
Pump, pump, pump. Breathe, breathe.
Another long minute went by.
“Ryon, maybe you should consider…” Lyle began.
A cough.
Ryon’s eyes flared, his heart skipped a beat.
Heck-heck!
Everyone leaned closer, speechless.
Penelope’s eyes fluttered, slowly peeling open like a newborn. Her face was deathly pale, but her chest abruptly fell and rose as she began breathing on her own.
Tears filled his eyes out of nowhere. Overcome, he gently hugged her close to him. He wanted to weep, but instead he told her how he felt.
“I love you. I love you.” He’d never wanted to tell anyone something so much in his whole life.
Then, as he was breathing in her sweet scent, she reached out and touched his hand.
He’d take that as an unspoken vow any day.
Chapter 15
The calm after the storm.
Some semblance of normalcy was finally returning to the Tarlèans. The attack had shaken the foundation of safety that Lyle and Ryon, and many others, had fought years for. They would survive. Their people would carry on. The last of human civilization. They had to protect their own, and most of all, keep that silver mine.