Chapter 156: Please, just save him.

My hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles hurt.

I can barely feel my fingers anymore, but I don’t loosen my grip. My eyes remain fixed on the road, although every few seconds, I find myself looking into the rearview mirror.

Lysander is slumped against the back seat, his head resting against the leather. Hakeem is beside him, both hands pressed firmly against his stomach, trying to keep pressure on the wounds.

There’s blood everywhere.

On his shirt, on the seat, on Hakeem’s hands and some of it is on mine.

"Don, can you hear me?"

Hakeem’s voice cuts through the silence. When Lysander doesn’t respond immediately, he tries again.

"Don!?"

A few seconds pass before he lets out a faint groan.

"Stop shouting."

Hakeem exhales, almost laughing with relief.

"Thank fuck."

He doesn’t remove his hands, though. If anything, he presses them more firmly against the wounds.

"Stay with me, Don. We’re almost home."

I swallow hard.

"How is he?"

"Your eyes should be on the road, ma’am."

"Just tell me how he is!"

"He’s conscious. That’s good. Just keep driving."

I look into the mirror again.

Lysander’s eyes are partially closed, and his face is so pale that I barely recognise him.

I turn my attention back to the road, blinking rapidly as tears gather in my eyes.

"Hey."

I glance at the mirror again.

"Lysander?"

His eyelids move slightly.

"Tell me something. Anything. Insult me if you have to....just keep talking. We need to keep you conscious."

His lips twitch.

"You’re a terrible driver, peque?o motín."

A broken laugh escapes me. It’s barely a laugh. More like a sob that got caught halfway through.

"Just try to stay awake."

I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand, but another tear immediately follows.

A few minutes ago, I was furious with this man, furious enough to want to kill him and now I don’t want him to die.

The thought comes so suddenly that my chest tightens.

I don’t want him to die.

"Don, can you hear me?"

Hakeem’s voice is louder now.

I look into the mirror.

Lysander hasn’t answered.

"Don?"

Nothing.

My stomach drops.

"Lysander?"

His head slowly falls further against the seat.

"Lysander!"

I almost swerve when I see his eyes closing and I turn back to look at him.

"Lysander! Open your damn eyes!"

He barely moves.

"Rissa..."

His voice is so faint I almost don’t hear it.

"What? What is it?"

His lips move again.

"Road..."

I frown.

"What?"

"Eyes... road."

I stare at him through the mirror, my throat tightening.

"Don’t you dare make this about me. You’re the one bleeding!"

My voice breaks on the last word.

"Ma’am!" Hakeem calls. "Please concentrate on driving. I’ll handle him."

I drag in a shaky breath and face forward.

"Keep talking to him."

"I am."

Hakeem shifts slightly, careful not to move his hands from Lysander’s wounds.

"Don, how many fingers am I holding up?"

There is no answer.

"Come on, Don. Look at me."

I press my foot harder against the accelerator.

Every traffic light feels like a personal insult. Every car in front of me is an obstacle. The road seems to stretch endlessly, and I find myself wishing I could simply close my eyes and make the house appear in front of us.

"What’s your name, Don?"

A faint movement.

"Fuck... off."

Hakeem lets out a breath.

"That’s better."

I keep glancing at the mirror.

Please. Please, Lysander.

Just stay awake.

I don’t care about the woman anymore. I don’t care about the argument we were having or the things he did before today. I don’t care about the pictures or the tattoo or the ring I left behind.

We can fight tomorrow, we can scream at each other and we can argue until the entire house wants to throw us out.

Just give me tomorrow.

By the time the gates of the estate come into view, my entire body feels exhausted.

I drive through them and barely wait for the car to come to a complete stop before reaching for the door handle.

Rocco is already waiting outside with Daniel. There are medical bags on the ground beside them, and a stretcher is positioned near the entrance.

The moment the car stops, Hakeem opens the back door.

"He’s losing consciousness."

Rocco immediately approaches.

"Move aside. Let me see him."

He leans into the car, checks Lysander’s responsiveness, and examines the blood-soaked areas of his shirt.

"Fuck."

He looks at Daniel.

"Bring the stretcher. Carefully. Don’t pull him up abruptly. Support his weight."

Daniel rushes to retrieve it.

I get out of the car and hurry around to the other side.

"He’s been shot twice," I tell Rocco. "He’s lost so much blood. He’s barely been responding for the last few minutes."

"All right, Nerissa. Let us take over."

"But he’s....."

"I know. Help me get him out."

I immediately reach for Lysander’s arm.

Hakeem supports his other side while Rocco guides them. They move him slowly, but the moment they lift him, Lysander groans.

My heart nearly stops.

"Easy," I whisper, reaching for his hand. "Please, just be careful."

His fingers move faintly against mine, his head turns slightly towards my voice.

It’s such a small movement, barely noticeable to anyone else, but I feel it like a hand closing around my heart.

"That’s it," I whisper. "I’m right here."

Rocco looks at me briefly before returning his attention to Lysander.

"Daniel, keep his head supported."

They transfer him onto the stretcher, and I follow closely as they carry him inside.

The room has already been prepared. A medical bed stands in the centre, with equipment arranged along the side. Rocco directs them towards it while Daniel prepares to assist.

"Carefully. On my count."

They transfer Lysander onto the bed.

I stand near his head, unable to look away.

His eyes are closed now and he looks deathly pale.

"Lysander?"

Nothing. His fingers remain limp.

Rocco begins examining the wounds while Daniel checks his vital signs.

"Daniel, check his blood pressure again."

"His pulse is weak."

"Get the IV fluids ready. I need to assess both entry wounds."

Daniel immediately moves to the equipment.

Rocco carefully examines the injuries, asking questions as he works.

"How long ago was he shot?"

"Maybe twenty minutes. A little more."

"Did he lose consciousness at any point?"

"Not completely. He kept responding, but he started getting weaker during the drive."

"Did he complain of difficulty breathing?"

I shake my head.

"Not that I noticed."

Rocco nods, concentrating on his examination.

"All right."

I watch him work, trying to understand every movement, every instruction, every expression that crosses his face.

"Rocco?"

He doesn’t look up.

"Yes?"

"Is he going to be okay?"

He pauses briefly.

"I need to assess the damage first."

I hate that answer, I hate that he can’t look at me and promise everything will be fine.

I take another step towards the bed.

"Can I stay here?"

Rocco finally turns towards me.

"Nerissa, I need space."

"But I won’t get in your way. I just want to...."

"Let me work."

I stop when he gestures towards the doorway.

"Please."

I don’t want to leave him, I don’t want to take even one step away from that bed.

"Nerissa, you’re not helping him by standing over my shoulder. I need to concentrate."

My eyes burn.

I look down at my hands and realise they’re still covered in his blood. Some has dried around my wrists, while the rest remains wet against my palms.

I don’t even remember when I got it there.

I look back at Lysander.

"Please," I whisper. "Just save him."

Rocco’s expression softens.

"That’s exactly what I’m here to do."

I slowly release Lysander’s hand. Then I step backwards, unable to take my eyes off him until the door begins to close

The door closes and I’m left standing outside.