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Y/n's POV

We had a burial for Cleo, her grave residing next to her sister, Emily, and another friend, Savannah, who was next to Emily. Silent tears flowed down my face the entire time, there was no stopping them.

Everyone else had gone inside after a bit and left me standing there, staring at my, now 3, dead members.

Just when I thought everything was getting better, it was getting worse. The Sidemen and Misfits had taken off already, which only left the pack and the BBS in the house. Our numbers dwindled.

For a usually rowdy bunch, the atmosphere was eerily quiet. I took one last look at the graves before heading inside, trying to stop my tears.

As soon as I walked in, I went straight to our medical room, wanting to check on Mini and get my mind off of things. I entered and was met with a turned over mini, Brock wiping away some dry blood on the wound. "How's he looking?"

Brock immediately looked up as I spoke and sighed deeply. "Not great, I stopped the bleeding but I don't know what to do with him. I mean, your wound was easy, remove foreign objects and stitch up, but this? I have no idea where to start with a bullet wound to the back."

I stared silently at the man who lay in front of me, pondering ideas. "Y/n, I know this probably isn't what you wanna hear, but I think we have to take him to a hospital. He's stable for now, but I don't know how much longer that'll las-"

"Then lets go."

Brock looked at me in shock, not believing my compliance. "W-what? Really?"

"Yes. He's not dying on my watch." I reached in my pocket and pulled out some keys, shaking them in Moo's direction to show him I'm serious.

I walked to the door and peeked my head out, calling for wildcat. Once he arrived, I told him and Brock to lift the stretcher Mini was on and put it in the car to leave now.

Brock immediately grabbed the straps of the carrier but Tyler hesitated. "Leave? Where are we taking him?"

Brock and I looked at each other, knowing this wasn't going to smooth over nicely.

"The hospital."

"What? Are you crazy?!" He asked, raising his voice slightly. "He's one of the most wanted criminals of Los Santos and you want to admit him into a hospital?!"

"Wildcat we don't have time for this. He's stable now-"

"So keep it that way! He'll heal up fine!"

"For now! He's stable, for now! We can't ensure he'll stay that way, especially since the bullet is still in him! He's not dying if I can help it, and I will!"

Tyler still didn't want to agree, but he did, grabbing the straps of the stretcher and leading Moo and himself to the garage. I sighed, glad I didn't have to argue with him anymore.

I walked out of the room, discarding my weapons, mask, and boots, dropping them wherever and walking straight to my room. Once inside, I sighed, rubbing my face before making my way to the shower.

After about, half an hour, I got out, feeling a little less stressed and clean. I walk in my room and see Delirious laying on the bed, on his phone. We didn't acknowledge each other as I got dressed, just off in our own worlds, until I sat on the bed.

I sighed deeply and finally let my thoughts run, only then realizing that I had been numbing myself to everything around me. My face scrunched in discomfort and my lip trembled as I let everything process.

I took in a shaky breath and sniffled, letting a sob out. I felt warm tears roll down my face as images raced through my head.

Cleo's face.

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