Chapter 12

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(Blake’s POV)

My heart was racing as I carried Skye out of the car and ran towards the front door of the Moreno Mansion. I didn't want to think about why I was so worried as I stood there with her in my arms, of what exactly I was afraid could happen to her.

It was only seconds later that I heard the squeal of tires. I didn't even have to tear my eyes away from Skye's face to know that it was Mac, Elliot and his brothers. Their loud panicked voices surrounded me, but I ignored them, never taking my eyes away from Skye.

When the front door finally opened, I didn't even hesitate before I running past the others and into the front room. As gently as I could, I placed Skye’s unconscious body on to the couch. Elliot and the others entered the room behind me, suddenly quiet.

“Where’s the doctor?!” I asked looking around wildly, as if expecting a doctor to suddenly appear.

“I tried calling our doctor when we were in the car," Elliot said, shaking is head. "But he said he was an hour away and there's no way he could make it here in time to...”

I swore loudly.

He didn't have to finish his sentence for me to know what he meant. 

“We need to take her to hospital!” Jake said.

“Are you crazy?" I said, turning to look at him. Jake was obviously not the brightest bulb in the family, but I thought he at least had some common sense. "The moment we walk into that place we’ll be handcuffed and taken to the nearest police station!” 

“What else can we do?” Jake shouted. “Let Skye die?!”

“She won’t die!” I growled, turning back to Skye and inspecting the wound.

“What are you doing?” Marcus asked. Although he too was concerned, it was clear that he was calmer than the others appeared to be.

“Checking how deep the bullet is,” I mumbled, ripping away the material of cloth that was obstructing my view and checking the wound. “Fuck!” I ran a hand threw my hair, “its pretty deep.”

“What are we going to do?” Aaron asked, a horrified look on his face.

“We’re doing the only thing we can do,” I said, as calmly as I could. “We’re taking the bullet out ourselves.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Jake yelled. “We can’t take the bullet out. We don’t even know how!”

You don't. But not all of us are as stupid as you,” I said, scowling at him. Didn’t these little shits know anything at all? They called themselves gang leaders but they didn't even know how to remove a bullet. 

I nodded at the towel on the coffee table, “Pass me that.”

Aaron handed me the towel and I pressed it to the open wound, attempting to stop the blood from going everywhere.

“Get me a knife and some whiskey,” I said to Aaron who nodded and ran out the room to get the two items. I turned to Marcus and pointed at the fireplace, “Light the fireplace up.” Frowning in confusion, Marcus did as I said.

Aaron came back in the room and I took the bottle of whiskey out of his hands, pouring some of it over the wound.

“Shouldn’t we try and wake her up?” Aaron asked, uncertainly.

“Only if you want her screaming bloody murder,” I said, picking up the kitchen knife and pouring some of the whiskey onto it.

I lowered the knife down, biting my tongue to stop myself from pulling the knife back and refusing to remove the bullet.

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