Gideon's expression shifted to one of confusion and concern. "What the hell are you talking about? She's worried sick about you."
I closed my eyes, the pain in my shoulder nothing compared to the ache in my chest. "I failed her, Gideon. She's here because I couldn't give her what she needed. Because I treated her like a child instead of a partner."
"That's not—"
"She told me she didn't want to be coddled," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. "She was right. I'm not whatshe needs. I'm what I am—a controlling bastard who thinks he knows better than everyone else."
Above us, I could hear Emily's voice, frantic as she called my name. The sound cut through me like a blade.
"Dion, look at me," Gideon commanded, his tone brooking no argument. "You just took two bullets to save her life. How is that failing her?"
"Because she wouldn't have been here if I hadn't driven her away," I said, finally meeting his eyes. "She left because I couldn't be what she needed. And now she's traumatized, her mother's involved in trafficking, and she's probably never going to feel safe again."
"So, your solution is to abandon her?" Gideon's voice was incredulous. "When she needs you most?"
I turned my head away, unable to face the judgment in his eyes. "She needs someone who can love her without trying to control her. Someone who can give her the freedom she deserves."
"That's the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard," Gideon snapped. "And I've heard a lot of bullshit in my time."
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. EMTs would be here soon, and then Emily would want to talk to me, to thank me, to pretend like what we had could work.
"Please," I said quietly. "Just get me to the hospital. Tell her I'm unconscious or something. I need time to think."
Gideon stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "You're making a mistake."
"I'm preventing one," I corrected.
Above us, Emily's voice called out again, raw with emotion. "Is he okay? Please tell me he's okay!"
I closed my eyes, memorizing the sound of her voice, knowing it might be the last time I heard it directed at me with such concern.
"Tell her I'm fine," I whispered to Gideon. "But don't let her see me."
Gideon's jaw clenched, frustration radiating from every line of his body. "This is wrong, Dion. She loves you."
"She deserves better," I said firmly, even as the words felt like acid in my throat.
The sound of footsteps on metal grew closer. Emily was coming down, probably against all safety protocols, probably terrified and desperate to reach me. Everything in me wanted to hold her, to tell her I was sorry, to promise I'd never let anything happen to her again.
Instead, I turned my face away.
"Dion!" Her voice was closer now, breathless with panic. "Oh God, there's so much blood—"
"He's unconscious," Gideon lied smoothly. "The paramedics need space to work."
"But I need to—" Emily's voice broke. "I need to tell him I'm sorry. This is my fault. If I hadn't left—"
"Emily." Gideon's voice gentled. "This isn't your fault. Rice orchestrated all of this. Dion knows that."
I kept my breathing shallow, my body limp, even as every fiber of my being screamed to reach for her. Through my barely cracked eyelids, I could see her kneeling just a few feet away, still wearing her work clothes from earlier, now torn and stained. Her face was pale, that split lip making me want to commit violence all over again.
"Miss, we need you to step back," a paramedic's voice cut through the moment. "We need to get him stabilized."
"Will he be okay?" Emily asked, her voice small and scared.
"Looks like through-and-through wounds," the paramedic replied professionally. "He's lost some blood, but we'll check his vitals are stable. We'll know more at the hospital."
As they loaded me onto a stretcher, I caught one last glimpse of Emily's face. She looked devastated, guilt and fear warring in her expression. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to reach for her.
