Her Obsession (by Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 47

Big Boy Pants.

Matteo stayed crouched at her side, his palms firm over the dressing, his weight balanced like he was part of the debris himself, ready to take a hit if it meant keeping that rebar from shifting.

“I’ve got her,” I said, sliding my arms under Sage, mindful of every angle, every jutting shard around us. Her head lolled against my shoulder, hair gritty with dust, skin pale beneath the grime.

“Keep her torso steady,” Matteo warned, moving with me in lockstep, his hands never leaving her wound. The pressure he kept was relentless, and I knew it had to be agony for her, but she didn’t make a sound. We maneuvered toward the gap Liam had cleared, my boots skidding on loose concrete. The air in here was hot and stale, the dust thick enough to scrape my throat raw. Above us, another groan ripped through the structure.

“Move, Conner,” Matteo urged, voice low but urgent.

We crouched, twisting just enough to make it through the jagged opening. Matteo went first, still holding pressure, guiding me step by step. I followed, Sage’s limp weight in my arms, the rebar anchored in place like a cruel handle I couldn’t touch. The moment we reached the shaft of light, fresh air hit my lungs, sharp, cold, real. Liam’s hands were there instantly, gripping my arm, pulling us through as the rubble shifted again behind us.

“Go, go!” Liam shouted.

Sage stirred weakly in my arms, her lips parting like she wanted to say something, but all that came out was a hoarse breath.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” I murmured, tightening my hold. We cleared the opening just as another section collapsed behind us with a deafening crack. Matteo was right there beside me, one hand still braced over her wound as we stumbled into the open. Her eyes flickered open for half a heartbeat, green meeting mine through the dust and chaos. Trust. Again. Then her lashes fell, and she was gone.

“Med kit!” Matteo barked, already dropping to his knees beside her.

I didn’t let go until I felt his hands take her fully. And even then, it felt wrong, like part of me was still under that rubble with her.

Matteo’s hands were already red to the wrists, knuckles white as he gripped the torn fabric around Sage’s wound. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked like it might snap. The doctor who finally fucking got here, kneeled opposite him, tearing open the med kit with practiced urgency, fumbling in the dim light for whatever they could use.

“She’s crashing,” Matteo growled low, deadly serious. “We need blood, fluids, hospital now.”

The doctor didn’t flinch, but Naomi did. Her voice broke through the tense air, shaky but fierce.

“You’re not taking her to a hospital, she doesn’t exist. Not legally. Not on paper. If you take her to a hospital, every cop in the city’s gonna have a red flag within the hour and Yakov will know she’s now a dead end.”

Matteo’s head snapped up sharply, eyes blazing.

“And if she bleeds out here?”

Naomi’s tone was sharp as broken glass.

“You either put on your big boy pants and save her with what you’ve got, or you get to watch her die knowing you wasted the time you had.

The tension crackled between them, thick enough to choke on. There was no backup. No outside help. Just us, trapped, surrounded by rubble and death. My eyes stayed fixed on Sage, her skin pale beneath layers of dust and blood. The rebar was still a cruel spike through her shoulder, dark blood slick against the metal. My stomach twisted, bile rising.

“Matteo,” I said sharply, pulling his attention. “You can do this.”

He didn’t answer, just ripped open another sterile packet, hands moving like machine parts despite the pressure. The doctor started an IV drip from the portable kit, the faint hiss of fluids pumping the only sound between us.

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8:10 pm P PDD.

Big Boy Pants.

Matteo bit out, “We have minutes, maybe less. This place is unstable.”

I crouched lower beside them, one hand steadying Sage’s arm, the other brushing grit from her hair. Her chest rose and fell, shallow and slow, like a flickering candle.

“You’re not dying here,” I murmured, voice low and fierce. “Not after I just pulled you from a goddamn grave.”

The doctor handed Matteo a pair of trauma shears.

“On three.” Matteo said, eyes locking with mine. “You hold her steady. No movement. No surprises.”

1 braced my hands on her shoulders, feeling the fragile weight of her head rest against my wrist.

“One.” Matteo’s voice was steady, his body rigid with tension.

“Two.” The rebar caught the dim light, slick and cruel.

“Three.”

He moved. The world seemed to slow as he pulled, slow, deliberate, every millimeter a battle against her body’s reflex to seize, to shut down. Sage’s face contorted in pain, eyes squeezed shut, but she didn’t cry out. Not once. The sick, wet sound of tearing flesh filled the cramped space, and I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. Then, finally, the rebar came free, slick and cruel in Matteo’s hand, gleaming ominously in the dust-filled light. I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and leaned closer, watching as Matteo quickly packed gauze deep into the wound, his hands steady despite the urgency. The doctor followed with antiseptic spray and a tight, careful bind of bandages.

“She’s bleeding less,” Matteo said, eyes sharp. “But we’ve got maybe ten, fifteen minutes before shock sets in. We need to get moving.”

The comm crackled suddenly, loud and frantic in the small space. Nico’s voice cut through, tense and urgent.

“Conner! Structural integrity’s collapsing fast. You need to get out now.”

No hesitation. No second guess.

I tightened my grip on Sage, feeling her weak pulse under my fingers, and nodded to Matteo.

“Let’s move.”

With Matteo still supporting the wound, I shifted Sage’s weight carefully into my arms, mindful of every fragile breath she took. The rubble around us seemed to groan and shift with the threat of collapse, dust cascading like a storm.

As I pushed forward toward the shaft of light, the weight of her life in my arms hammered my heart like a war drum. This wasn’t just rescue anymore. It was survival.

“Hold on, Sage,” I whispered, voice raw. “We’re not done yet.”

The way out was a gauntlet. Every step was a gamble, rubble shifted beneath our feet, dust choking the air as the building protested its own collapse. Matteo never let go of the wound, applying pressure like a lifeline, while the doctor murmured orders and checked Sage’s fading vitals.

Nico’s voice cut through the chaos, steady but urgent, “Almost there. Car’s five clicks north.”

When we finally burst into the cold night air, relief was sharp but fleeting. Naomi was already in the passenger seat, scanning the shadows with jittery eyes, gun ready on her lap. Liam slid behind the wheel, muscles tense.

I settled into the cramped backseat between Matteo and the doctor, Sage still cradled in my arms.

‘Let’s roll, handsome.” Naomi announced as we sped off.

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