Chapter 126
Chapter 126:
He pushed. One, two, three, four. He felt a sickening crack beneath his palms — the cartilage of a rib giving way. He didn’t stop.
He pinched her nose and covered her mouth with his own, breathing life into her. Her lips were ice cold.
He pumped again. He would break every bone in her body if it meant her heart would beat.
“Don’t leave me,” he choked — a broken, guttural sound that stilled every man on his team. Dallas Koch did not cry. “Please, Eliza.” He breathed into her again.
S𝘩𝗮𝗿𝘦 𝘺𝗼𝘂𝗋 𝘁ho𝘂𝗀h𝘁𝘀 оո
A convulsion wracked her body. Water expelled from her lungs. She coughed — a violent, hacking sound — and then gasped, choking on the sweet, freezing air.
Dallas sat back on his heels, his chest heaving.
Eliza opened her eyes. They were unfocused, glassy. The world was spinning.
“Hospital,” Dallas ordered, his command voice returning, though it shook at the edges. “Now p>
He gathered her shivering, soaked body into his arms, holding her as though she were glass that had already shattered — carefully, completely, as if the pressure of his grip alone could keep her from breaking further.
The hospital room was dim, lit only by the rhythmic green glow of the heart monitor. The air smelled of antiseptic and floor wax.
Eliza drifted in a gray fog. Her chest ached with every breath — a sharp, bruising pain from the CPR. She felt heavy, anchored to the bed by exhaustion and trauma.
Outside the room, chaos reigned. Dallas, still in his wet clothes, water pooling around his expensive shoes, was being held by a police officer.
“I need to see her,” Dallas demanded, his voice raw.
“Mr. Koch, we need your statement regarding the shooting,” the officer insisted, blocking the door. “It’s procedure. And the doctors are still assessing her p>
Inside the room, Anson sat in the chair beside the bed. He had gotten in while Dallas was being questioned. He hadn’t bothered with flimsy excuses — he had made a single call to a member of the hospital’s board of directors, a man who owed the Hyde family a significant favor. The order came down to the nurses’ station: Mr. Hyde was to be considered family and given access. It was a gross overreach. In the chaos, it had worked.
Eliza stirred. Her hand, searching blindly, found a warm hand resting on the bedrail.
She gripped it.
Her vision was blurred, swimming with shadows. She made out the silhouette of a man. Broad shoulders. Dark hair.
Her mind, desperate for comfort, supplied the identity. The man who had jumped. The man who had breathed life back into her.
“You came,” she rasped, her voice barely a whisper.
Anson went still. He looked down at her hand gripping his. Guilt flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t pull away.
“Eliza?” he said softly.
The door handle turned. Dallas pushed it open, having finally cut through the red tape.
He stopped dead.
He saw Eliza clutching Anson’s hand. He saw Anson leaning over her, his posture close and protective.