Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl Chapter 130

Ezra

You can never tell the thoughts or words that would go through your mind when your life flashes before your eyes.

For some people, they might have a brief glimpse of all their memories.

For some, it might be a loved one's face at the back of their eyes.

But for me…it's…nothing.

But before the nothing, there was a moment I gave it all up. My sympathy, my olive branch, my forgiveness.

I pushed them all to the back of my mind, and I locked it there.

No more.

Not when I watched that bullet pierce through Wren's stomach. Not when her body jerked from the force. And definitely not when I saw the blood soak her cardigan.

And now, I don't see anything except the faces of the people who hurt her. I don't hear anything except for the ringing in my ears.

I don't feel anything.

Because there's just one primal instinct in me. And that is to kill. It's fierce, it's violent…it's hungry.

And it wants blood.

I know there's chaos surrounding me. In the farthest distance of my mind I can hear someone screaming, I can hear gunshots.

But I'm too focused to be distracted by that.

My guns are pointed at Lydia and Reginald who are on the floor. How they got there, I can't recall.

Their lips are moving, probably begging as their hands grapple for a weapon but none is within their reach.

I stand above them, resigned to the fate I know that awaits them.

And. I. Fire.

There's a rage that fills you to the point it pushes you out of your body. That's what this is. An out of body experience.

I don't hear the shots, but I see the holes in their chest. They're so many, blood just gushes out, their lips have stopped moving.

But I can't stop.

It's not enough.

I don't know how long I keep firing, the bullets don't run out, and so I don't stop.

A tear rolls down my face because I know that they've taken from me. I just know it, I feel it in my heart.

And god, it hurts.

Yet, with all the firing, it doesn't stop hurting. It doesn't replace the loss.

Then, I feel a firm hand on my shoulder, and a murmur. "They're gone, Ezzy. That's enough."

They've been gone for long. Their eyes wide open, lifeless as blood surrounds them.

I tear my gaze away from the gore and fix them on Ajax, my brother.

"Wr-Wren?" I croak.

"She's been rushed to the hospital."

A choked sob rips from my throat and guilt, god, the guilt.

It claws through my chest. It's heavy, thick, and it weighs me down.

I don't know if I can see her like that. I don't know if I can look her in the eye after this…I don't know if she's going to survive it.

I promised Ray she'll be home in one piece. Now, I'm not so sure and I only have myself to blame.

"Ajax…" my words are broken.

When he pulls me to his chest and hugs me, it takes everything not to drag him to the floor with me.

My whole body trembles, the guns clank to the ground and I grip my brother as I sob into his shoulder.

He doesn't speak, doesn't try to comfort me or assure me. And I wonder, is it because there's no hope? Is it because she—they—may not survive?

The thought sends a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. I can't lose her, I can't lose any of them.

Not Wren, not our baby.

I don't know what I'd do with myself.

Suddenly, footsteps rush in, interrupting my pain, my anguish, my thoughts.

"Guys, the cops are coming!"

And we hear the sirens in the distance. But I don't have it in me.

Would it not be better to go to jail? To escape momentarily the chaos that is my lie? To atone for the sins I've committed, to rid myself of the guilt?

Ajax pulls away and his brown eyes search mine.

"I know what you're thinking, and you better snap out of it," he says. "Right now, Wren needs you."

"I…sh-she was pregnant—is pregnant."

His eyes widen briefly. "That's why she needs you, now more than ever."

"I can't—"

"Look at me." He grips my jaw. "You can, Ezra. This is in no way your fault. Do you understand?"

My eyes pinch shut. "Ajax—"

"None of that, Ezra."

The sirens are closer now, and before I can respond, Ajax drags me through one of the back doors and out into the afternoon heat.

Someone brings one of the cars around and we get in as they zoom off.

Rivers swivels around in the front seat and his eyes soften when he sees me. "Ray's been calling."

I stiffen, jaw tight.

"What did he say?"

"I…I haven't been able to pick up." His head bows, shoulders slumped forward.

I run a hand down my wet face, and breathe.

"Okay. I'll…I'll call him."

Patting my pockets, I fish out my phone, not surprised to see dozens of missed calls from Ray, Torch, Kendall, Lizzy and Quincy.

"We can tell him, you don't have to," Ajax says.

I shake my head. "Nah, I'll do it." My fingers tremble as I punch down on Ray's number.

He picks up before it even rings.

"Ezra! I have been calling everyone, what's going on?! Where's Wren? Did you get her out of—"

"Wren was shot, Ray," I rasp. "She's been rushed to the hospital. I'm heading there now."

***

My eyes are blood shot, knuckles split open. Streaks of blood stain my clothes and hair.

I'm a mess, but I don't care.

I've been at the hospital lobby for hours now, pacing the hall with others. Ray came in with Quincy and the baby an hour ago.

We've not said anything. Everyone is quiet, lost in their head…just like me.

We're waiting for the doctors.

From what Torch told us, she was rushed in for surgery after passing out from excessive blood loss.

I don't know what to do, what to say, what to think. I can only chant 'please, be okay' over and over again in my head.

I would never be the same if anything happened to her, I'd never be able to live with myself.

A nurse walks up to me. "Sir, I think we should check you in. Get you cleaned up and—"

"No," I snap, and she flinches. "I don't need to be checked in! I don't need to be cleaned up! I don't need—"

"Hey, EJ." I feel a hand on my shoulder.

It's Ray.

He shakes his head at her, and she scurries off.

My jaw tightens and I flip on him. "Every forty-five minutes, a nurse walks up to me and says the same thing! If I wanted to get cleaned up or checked in, I damn well know how to go about it!"

"I know." He nods. "I know. It's okay. Come, sit."

"Can't."

"EJ…"

"H-how can I sit when she's in there?" My eyes fill once more as I jerk my hand towards the direction of the theater—or where ever they rolled her into.

"She's a fighter. She'll be alright."

"You don't know that. You d-didn't see the blood, the…the…Jesus, Ray."

"Breathe."

I run a hand through my hair and down my face, probably smearing more blood.

"Let's get you cleaned up though," he says. "Wren wouldn't want to see you all messy."

My throat tightens and my lips lift only slightly because he's right. She'd wrinkle her nose at me and probably itch to clean me up herself.

God, I miss her. I need her.

And I hope she's okay…and our baby too.

"Okay," I breathe out.

Just as Ray moves to direct me towards a nurse, a doctor approaches us.

Everyone stands to their feet, and he pauses, looking at all of us.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Martins." He holds out his hand and Ray shakes him. "I need Wren Carlisle's family."

"I'm Raymond Carlisle, and we're her family. You can talk to us," Ray says.

He nods. "The surgery was successful. She's stable and has been placed in room 358 on the first floor."

"And…" I swallow, stepping forward slightly. "And the b-baby?"

His eyes go soft and his shoulders slump. Before he speaks, I already know.

Just like I knew in that warehouse.

My head starts shaking before I speak. "N-no, p-please."

Ray holds me in place, his hand firm on my shoulder.

Like an anchor.

"I'm sorry," the doctor says. "We did our best, but we couldn't save both."

My heart twists in my chest and my jaw drops as I sputter for breath.

I want to scream, I want to yell at the doctor for not doing more, to yell at Ray for separating us in the first place….and to yell at myself, for not protecting her and our baby the way I vowed to.

But no words come out.

Just choked, pained sobs that rip from my throat as tears roll down my face.

"M-my b-baby…Wren…" Those are the only words I can say over and over.

My baby.

My Wren.

Ray holds me upright, and so do the others.

He presses his forehead against mine, eyes red-rimmed and filled with tears, and then he grips my shoulder tight.

And through gritted teeth, he speaks, "I am so fucking sorry, Ezra–" a tear drops, "so fucking sorry."

Those words? They break me, shatter me…completely.