“Anybody...somebody...please!”

Every second he travelled further and further from my reach.

Every useless attempt at keeping him with me sent him deeper into a realm I could not follow.

“Sully!”

I punched his heart.

I kissed him instead of breathed for him.

I lost myself.

I hit him and begged him and did things I never thought I’d do.

I kicked his wounded leg, hoping the pain would bring him back.

I slapped his scruff-shadowed cheek, pleading shock to wake him up.

I bit his lip as I exhaled deep into his lungs.

“SOMEONE HELP ME!”

He’s dying...

He’s leaving.

He’s gone.

“No!”

This was hell. This was utmost purgatory, and I was alone.

I threw myself on him, renewing my efforts with heart presses and oxygen pouring.

And finally, the universe decided to send aid.

The door to the bedroom swung wide in the night.

Not just one person to help me but four.

Three men bolted forward while an older woman wearing a fluttering white nightgown ran in.

A man with slicked-back dark hair and a goatee shoved me aside without apology, pressing his fingers to Sully’s throat.

His eyes met mine. “No pulse.”

I choked on sobs as I wrapped my arms around my bleeding, brutalising insides.

Moving to Sully’s other side, he linked his hands together, placing them over the bruise I’d caused while palpitating Sully’s unbeating heart. “You breathe, I’ll pump.”

Nodding manically, I swiped away my tears and did my best to swallow my sobs. Taking position by Sully’s head, I pinched his nose and breathed into his mouth.

The man set a punishing pace, swift and deep with his compressions. “Brent, go get the defib. Andrew, call an ambulance.”

Both men vanished.

I continued breathing for Sully, keeping air in his cells and hope in his blood.

The woman wrung her hands. “If he can be moved, there is a fully equipped surgery within the east wing. The previous owners needed in-home specialist care.” Her voice was pinched but calming. “There is oxygen and adrenaline and—”

“We’ll move him if he breathes again.” The man kept driving his full weight onto Sully’s sternum while I continued breathing for him. No one cared that Sully was naked. No one eyed up my lack of clothing either. No self-consciousness or pity could be spared while we all focused on denying death its chosen soul.

The slap of shoes on flagstones sounded as both men reappeared. “Ambulance is on its way.”

A medical bag with its ominous red plus sign slid against the floor as a blond man tripped beside Sully. Ripping open the zipper, he pulled out a travel-size defibrillator.

Use it quickly!

I breathed everything I had into Sully.

Come on. Come on!

The leader swapped places with his underling. He grabbed the guy’s hands and placed them over Sully’s heart. “Keep performing CPR. Don’t stop until I say.”

The man nodded and set into the rhythm of a strong and purposeful pulse.

With confident fingers, the leader unfurled the cables and slapped electrical pads onto Sully’s chest.

Fiddling with the machine, he pressed a button, and a high-pitched whine sounded.

“Clear!”

I sat away from Sully, and the man stopped depressing.

The leader punched the button, and Sully’s form jerked off the floor. He collapsed again, his head lolling sideways.

The leader paused, pressing his fingers once again to Sully’s throat. “Still nothing.”

Resetting the machine, he yelled, “Keep your hands off him until I say otherwise.” He electrocuted Sully again.

He jerked up and flopped down.

Nothing.

My own heart threatened to go into cardiac arrest. Still tender from elixir and foggy from a sedative, it couldn’t cope with the possibility of finding Sully and then losing him forever.

Tears tracked silently.

The urge to touch him became excruciating.

The machine whined again before another bolt of power shot into Sully’s useless heart.

“Fuck.” The leader searched for a pulse again. His gaze met mine. “Breathe for him.” Pressing his hands together, he shoved the other man away and drove the heels of his palms into Sully’s chest.

A rib cracked.

He grunted as he pressed harder.

I did as he asked, blowing as much air and love as I could down Sully’s throat.

Come back to me.

Please, please come back.

He kept pumping.

I kept breathing.

Come on, Sully.

This isn’t the end.

I know it isn’t.

It can’t be.

Panting hard, the man pushed me away and picked up the small machine again. Activating the charge, he gritted his teeth and pressed the button. “Clear.”

Sully jack-knifed off the floor.

He fell back a second later, sprawled and lifeless and...

Dead.

He’s...dead.

The finality of such a thing.

The totality of the word.

“NO!” I threw myself on him. I slapped his righteous cheek. “Wake up, you bastard. Wake up!”

The woman grabbed me from behind, murmuring sweet nothings in my ear, making the urge to break down unavoidable.

“The battery is getting low,” the man mumbled. “One last attempt.” Raking his hand over his sweaty face, he barked, “Clear!”

And pressed the button.

Sully shot upright.

He fell backward.

Still nothing.

I broke.

A keening sound escaped me. A high-pitched wail that I couldn’t control. I hugged myself and rocked. I bowed over my knees. I fell to the side, hugging the explosions annihilating me.

The bomb in my soul. The shrapnel in my belly. The extermination in my core.

He can’t be dead.

He can’t.

No!

The faint howl of sirens announced the paramedics had arrived. The woman bustled to the door. “I’ll bring them here straight away.”

The men lingered, not knowing how to help me or Sully.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Grace.” One of them tried to pat my shoulder.

I lashed out with claws. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!”

The leader slowly removed the sticky pads from Sully’s chest. His head bowed, and regret bracketed his mouth. His hand trailed over Sully’s throat, his fingers searching one last time for a pulse.

He froze.

My sobs silenced.

Sick, vicious hope exploded.

I would die from this hope.

I would perish beside Sully because hope was the only thing keeping me alive.

Please...

If this turned out to be fake...

If he’s dead...

The urge to vomit burned my throat.

Nausea and vertigo, hot flashes and icy sweats.

Please!

The man closed his eyes, his entire focus on the faintest flutter of life.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three.

Four.

Five nightmarish moments.

His eyes soared wide just as the paramedics spilled into the room. “Shit, he’s alive.” His attention shot from me to the uniformed men falling to their knees around Sully.

The man I loved more than fucking life itself became the centrepiece of calm professionals and panicked mercenaries.