CHAPTER 257
Livius never stopped. His gloved hands pressed hard against Ezekiel's blood-soaked chest before releasing again. "Come on..." He gritted his teeth as he continued the compressions. "Come on!"
Hadriel hurriedly replaced another blood-soaked towel wrapped around Ezekiel's torso.
"It won't stop bleeding," one of the healers muttered, pressing harder against the wound.
"It can't," Livius answered through ragged breaths. "The wound came from his mate."
Another healer adjusted the oxygen mask over Ezekiel's face. The machine forced air into lungs that refused to breathe on their own.
The monitor beside the bed remained merciless. A single, unwavering line.
Livius grabbed another syringe. "Epinephrine." It was immediately handed to him. He injected it without hesitation. "Again."
Nothing. Another. But then again, nothing.
His breathing became louder inside his mask. Sweat rolled down his temples. He looked toward Hadriel. "Blood pressure?"
