Page 43 of Psycho Saints

They didn't answer, carrying him swiftly from the room amongst shouts and orders. I scrambled to my feet, ready to follow, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around me.

"Scarlet, it's me," Julian's voice was low and steady in my ear.

I turned in his embrace, burying my face against his chest. "Julian, Cristian... he's..."

"Shh, everything's going to be okay," he murmured, stroking my hair. "We've got him. He's tough, you know that."

A sob tore from my throat, and I clung to Julian as the tears began to fall. All the fear, adrenaline, and worry crashed over me in a tidal wave of emotion. Julian held me tight, his presence solid and reassuring.

"He knew, at least," I whispered between sobs. "I just told him..."

Julian's arms tightened around me. "Told him what?"

I sobbed softly as I shook my head. "I took a test. I'm pregnant."

He tensed against me, his arms tightening.

"You're positive?"

"Yes." I mumbled weakly.

"He'll be okay, and he'll want us to take care of you and your baby. We'll protect you both, I promise. Let's get you out of here, okay?" he said gently, although there was a slight tinge to his voice, and I knew he was still processing what I'd told him.

I nodded weakly against his chest, allowing him to guide me. As we moved, I instantly thought of Kenny and reached for his carrier. Julian understood immediately, scooping it up without a word.

We made our way through the destruction, furniture blown to bits, men from both sides gunned down. Julian shielded me from the worst of it, keeping me close to him. My mind raced with thoughts of Cristian, the baby, and the uncertain future ahead. But for now, all I could do was trust Julian and hope that somehow, everything really would be okay.

That this was over.

And Cristian would be okay.

I sat in the backseat of the vehicle, barely registering Julian's voice as he spoke on the phone to Tyrone. My hands rested on my belly, my mind consumed with thoughts of Cristian. He couldn't die on me now. We had some twisted, fucked-up connection, and the thought of him dying was agonizing.

The world outside blurred as we sped through the streets. I caught fragments of Julian's conversation - "critical condition," "lost a lot of blood," "surgery" - but couldn't bring myself to focus on the details. My chest felt tight, each breath a struggle as I fought back tears.

Julian's hand came to rest on my leg, warm and steady. "How are you holding up?"

I turned to him, tears welling in my eyes despite my efforts to keep them at bay. Without a word, he pulled me against his chest, his fingers threading through my hair in a soothing rhythm.

"Cristian's on his way to the hospital," Julian murmured, his voice a low rumble against my ear. "He's still breathing, they're fighting to keep him alive."

My heart clenched painfully in my chest, a wave of nausea washing over me. I struggled to form words, my throat tight with unshed tears. "Will he live?" I finally choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air between us, heavy with fear and uncertainty.

Julian's chest rose and fell with a deep sigh, his arms tightening around me. I could feel the tension in his body, the worry radiating off him in waves. "I don't know," he admitted after a long moment, his voice low and heavy with the weight of the unknown. "The doctors will do everything they can, but..." He trailed off, leaving the grim possibilities unspoken.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the horrifying images that flashed through my mind. Cristian, bleeding and broken. Cristian, slipping away from us. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him, not when we'd already been through so much.

We sat in silence for a while, the only sounds were my muffled sobs against Julian's shirt. The adrenaline that had kept me going earlier had long since faded, leaving me drained and spent. My emotions were a tangled mess, grief and fear battling with a desperate hope that Cristian would pull through.

As Julian held me, I found myself thinking of the baby growing inside me. A child that might never know its father if it wound up being Cristian's. The thought sent a fresh wave of tears cascading down my cheeks, soaking into Julian's already damp shirt.

"I can't lose him," I whispered, more to myself than to Julian. "Not now. Not like this."

I'd only just started trying to trust him properly again, and we still had a long way to go. But he'd proven himself willing, shown his efforts.

He'd protected me, come for me, and been there for me when death was nipping at my heels.

Julian's arms tightened around me, but he remained silent. There were no words of comfort he could offer, no promises he could make. We both knew the gravity of Cristian's condition.