The bullet had carved a deep gash along the left side of Hunter’s neck. Dark, thick blood oozed from the raw, angry wound, and Logan couldn’t move his hand fast enough to try to stop it.
Ah fuck.
He pressed his palm over the place where his friend had been shot. His fingers grew warm and sticky as the crimson liquid seeped through the thin material of his tactical glove.
Paralyzing fear threatened to take over, but he ignored it and focused on the only silver lining he could grasp. The blood his friend was losing hadn’t spurted out in wild streams, which meant Hunt’s common carotid artery hadn’t been severed.
Of course, if the bullethadcut through the man’s major artery, Hunt would already be dead.
You’re not dying today, brother. Not on my fucking watch!
With every cell in his body, Logan prayed that was true. But even as he told himself Hunter was going to be okay, Logan still grappled with fear from the amount of blood Hunt was still losing.
The carotid may still be intact, but the slow, steady pumps with which the blood was being forced out of the man’s neck suggested the wounded SEAL’s jugular was not.
Fuck!
“How b-bad?” Hunt’s strained voice reached his ears through the noise of gunfire and shouting.
Logan’s vision started to blur, but he blinked several times to clear away the unwanted tears. Forcing a smile, he gave a shake of his head and lied through his fucking teeth.
“It’s nothing.” He shrugged, working damn hard to make sure that smile didn’t so much as waver. “Just a scratch.”
A weak, barely-there grin lifted the corners of Hunter’s pursed lips. Almost immediately, a few rough coughs escaped from his labored chest, and Logan had to push even harder to keep enough pressure on the wound.
When Hunter’s heaving breaths finally steadied, his friend looked up at him with a choked out, “B-bull…shit.”
Logan laughed, but even to him, he sounded off. Because itwasbullshit. The thickest he’d ever tried to shovel.
But this was Hunt, goddamn it! His best friend. Hisbrother.And if he couldn’t get Hunter some serious medical attention soon…
No! Do not go there. This is Hunt we’re talking about. You’ve seen guys half as strong survive a hell of a lot worse.
His subconscious was right. Hunt was one of the toughest S.O.B.s Logan knew, not to mention stubborn as a fucking mule. If anyone could pull through this, it was him.
As his mind raced to continue assessing the injury to his friend, Logan finished running through the mental triage of his friend. If Hunt’sexternaljugular was severed, and Logan could stop the bleeding, there was a good chance he’d pull through.
The man would have one hell of a scar and a story to tell his grandkids, but he’d at least be alive to tell it.
On the flipside, if the problem wasn’t just the external jugular, if Hunter’sinternalhad been severed, it was a much different story. And far more terrifying.
It should be me. Hunt’s the Corpsman. He would know exactly what to do. It should fucking be me!
Logan had gone through the standard SEAL medical training they all had, but nothing like Hunt’s schooling for his bachelor’s in nursing. But right now, he was all his friend had, so he took a breath and forced himself to recall as much as he could regarding anatomy and neck injuries in the field.
From what he remembered, if Hunt’s internal jugular was the issue, the hopes of getting him to a hospital in time were slim to fucking none. He refused to accept that was fate’s plan for his friend, however, and set about doing everything humanly possible to keep the man alive.
He’s okay. It’s just the external. He’s going to be okay!
As if to challenge God himself, a determined Logan pushed down even harder. When he did, Hunt’s pain-stricken face twisted with a groan.
“Sorry, brother,” he apologized for the pain he knew the move had caused. “Have to stop the bleeding.”
Only the harder he pushed, the more blood his friend spilled.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
An unprecedented fear squeezed Logan’s heart to the point he thought it would burst from the pressure. Still, Logan refused to quit.