Shadows of Recovery (Everhart Family #3)

Chapter 40

Forty

J ames Blackwell arrived home from the hospital to find Matt Langdon, Sophie’s nurse, on the porch, about to let himself inside. Matt looked up, his face etched with worry. "Sophie missed her check-in. I no longer stay at the house, but I speak with her every afternoon."

“It’s not like Tristan to not turn the lights on.” James felt a cold knot of fear settle in his stomach. He unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. The house appeared empty. "Let's call Chris Skylar.” He pulled out his phone and dialed Chris’s number, his hands growing sweaty.

"Chris, have you heard anything from Tristan and Sophie?" James asked urgently.

Chris’s voice was calm but concerned. "Tristan told me he was taking the day off after he finished his rounds at the cabins. He was going via horseback and was planning to take Sophie on a picnic."

James's anxiety deepened. "I'm worried, Chris. They should have been back by now."

"I'll call the cabins and check," Chris replied, his voice tense.

A short while later, Chris called back. "Tristan and Sophie didn't make it to the eighth cabin. I'm calling the police.”

* * *

Brad Killian arrived with the Waverly County PD’s first patrol officer. It was already dark and growing cold. The highway patrol called in FD Search and Rescue to assist, led by Battalion Chief Turk Crenshaw.

Turk’s team quickly found evidence of an altercation involving more than one horse, judging by the hoof prints. "We've got signs of a struggle," Turk reported. "We’re following the prints toward the tribal land."

Brad tried calling Nathan Whitlock but received no response. He then confirmed with the hospital that Trace Whitlock’s family hadn’t visited since the day before, which was highly unusual.

Brad reached out to the tribal leadership in Eldon Falls. Eldon Falls was three hundred acres of beautiful South Dakota land. The Eldon Sect occupied a mile square in the northeast corner. They provided funds for the tribe to flourish.

The tribal chief was surprisingly cooperative. "We do not condone this behavior," the chief said firmly. "A woman fitting Sophie’s description is with the Whitlock brothers to help deliver a baby. That's all we know."

Just then, James came running in, breathless and panicked. "They found Tristan's horse with blood on the saddle and his reins loose, running in circles.

Brad's face hardened. "We need to move fast. Surround Eldon Falls with a full contingent of highway patrol and get assistance from the county and Waverly Junction police. We might need to raid if necessary."

* * *

Despite the Pitocin, Emma’s labor failed to progress. Sophie’s frustration boiled over. "Emma needs to go to the hospital. She’s sick, and the baby is in distress!"

Nathan, torn between his duty and his conscience, refused. "We can’t risk it, Sophie. Not now."

Emma, surrounded by the other wives, was suffering. Her cries of pain echoed through the room. Sophie, determined to save her, moved to talk to the brothers outside.

"Emma needs a C-section," she said urgently. "Without it, she and the baby could die. She needs a surgeon. Tristan is a surgeon."

Damon, who had been tied up by his brothers, begged, his voice filled with desperation, "Please, save my wife and baby."

Sophie got up in Damon’s face, her eyes blazing with anger. "Now you’re showing love and loyalty to your wife? Shut your mouth. I’ll help Emma, but you need to stay out of this."

Turning back to the other brothers, she insisted, "I need a surgeon. I need Tristan’s help."

Nathan gave in. "Bring Tristan from the cell," he ordered.

* * *

Tristan was brought from the cell, weak and dehydrated after hours without proper care and repeated caning. Sophie felt her knees begin to give out. His back was flayed open, his jaw locked to fight the pain. She begged him to let her help him, to take care of him, but he refused, his resolve overriding his situation.

"Why did they bring me here?" Tristan asked, his voice rough.

Sophie explained, "I have three patients: Emma, Damon's wife; Emma’s unborn baby; and Damon shot Kay. They moved her to another room and won’t let me see her. She's being watched by the sect’s LPN, Eleanor."

Tristan bit back the pain and forced himself to remain on his feet. As they approached Emma’s side, Sophie briefed him. "Emma has been in labor for over twenty-four hours. She has a fever. I'm running antibiotics, and Kay warned me she was positive for syphilis."

Nathan growled at Damon, “You son of a bitch.” Eli and Caleb held him back from hurting his youngest brother.

Tristan slid on a pair of gloves and crouched beside Emma, who was bleary-eyed with exhaustion. "Emma, I'm sorry you're hurting. I need to check you."

Emma's eyes widened with disbelief as she stared at Tristan. "I can't believe, after everything, you're still being kind to me... even with what my husband did."

Tristan’s expression softened, his gaze steady and filled with resolve. "The baby is innocent, Emma. We need to do everything we can."

Without wasting another moment, he quickly examined her, his movements swift but gentle. He then turned to Nathan, his tone firm and commanding. "Find a tray marked 'C-section.' I know your brother stole one. And bring Kay back in here. You need my help, Nathan. I don’t think you want that much blood on your hands if you don’t accept it."

Nathan hesitated for only a second before nodding, the gravity of the situation clear in his eyes. As he left to gather supplies, Tristan knelt beside the scattered pile of meds on the floor, his hands moving with precision as he located what he needed for an epidural.

He glanced at the pale, trembling nurse beside him. "Find me a spinal needle and skin disinfectant. Now."

The team moved swiftly, gathering everything necessary for the procedure. Tristan’s heart pounded, but he forced himself to focus, his hands steady as he prepared. Moments later, they wheeled Kay back into the room on a stretcher, her skin alarmingly pale.

Tristan’s breath caught in his throat as he walked over to her, his gloved hands gently lifting her bandages. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, the room seemed to pause.

"Hey, Kay..." Tristan’s voice was soft, almost a whisper.

"Tristan," Kay whispered back, a faint smile touching her lips despite the pain.

"It's going to be okay," he reassured her, his voice filled with a quiet strength. He instructed the nurse to hang an antibiotic and increase the fluids, his mind racing with everything that needed to be done.

Sophie’s voice cut through his thoughts, laced with concern. "We have no anesthesia."

Tristan didn’t hesitate. "Get me another epidural setup for Kay." He sighed, the situation pressing down on him, but he forced himself to turn back to Emma. "Okay, sweetheart, let’s deliver this baby." He pointed to two of the women nearby. "We need to get her on her side."

Despite the overwhelming stress, Tristan worked methodically, his brow damp with sweat. He could feel Sophie’s eyes on him, silently pleading to be allowed to help, but he pressed on, knowing time was of the essence. He scrubbed in and started the epidural, every second feeling like an eternity.

Fifteen minutes later, Emma’s pain was significantly reduced, and Tristan moved quickly, scrubbing and gloving up for the delivery. Sophie covered Emma’s abdomen with disinfectant, the sharp smell triggering a flashback that made her wobble. But Tristan’s voice was there, strong and grounding. "Soph, breathe. You’re safe with me."

Sophie closed her eyes for a brief moment, drawing strength from his words, then nodded. "I'm okay."

Another eight minutes passed, and then, like a beacon of hope piercing through the darkness, a throaty baby cry filled the room. "Emma, you have a little boy," Tristan announced, his voice thick with relief and a flicker of joy.

He quickly closed and bandaged Emma’s incision, then directed Eleanor to monitor both Emma and the baby. But there was no time to rest.

He turned to Kay, his eyes hardening with determination. "We don't have blood. I’m going to have to do meatball surgery—get in, get the bullet, and close any bleeds. When we’re out of here, you’ll need real surgery."

Kay’s hand, trembling but strong, reached up and squeezed his. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Tristan, though exhausted and in pain himself, forced his body to move, preparing for the makeshift surgery. His hands moved with accuracy, his focus unwavering, as if sheer willpower alone could keep him upright. Sophie stood by his side, the two of them working together seamlessly.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the bullet was removed, and Kay’s bleeding was controlled. Tristan stepped back, his body trembling with exhaustion, his vision swimming. He looked at Sophie, his eyes filled with gratitude and the faintest glimmer of triumph. "We did it," he murmured, his voice rough.

Sophie managed a tired smile, her own relief palpable. "Yes, we did."

But the moment of reprieve was short-lived. As soon as Emma, the baby, and Kay were stable, Tristan was grabbed roughly by the guards, his body too weak to resist. They dragged him away, his exhausted mind barely registering the cold iron bars as they threw him back into his cell. His body slumped to the ground, every muscle screaming in protest, but his thoughts were only of Sophie and the others, praying they would survive until help could come.

* * *

While the negotiations dragged on, Tristan’s condition worsened in the cold cell. The open wounds from the caning grew infected, and he was attacked by fleas, leading to a Yersinia pestis infection. His body weakened, and his fever increased, making him gravely ill.

Nathan arrived in Tristan’s cell alerted by two of the brothers. He toed his ribs. “Blackwell?”

Tristan greeted him with a groan.

"He was okay a couple of hours ago," Nathan said.

"Bad enough Damon killed people, but c'mon, Nathan, do something. You're going to be in charge soon. You know Dad has limited time," Eli said.

Nathan leaned down. "Blackwell, I only wanted to punish you, not kill you. Get him to the doc," he ordered.

* * *

Sophie was horrified when the brothers brought Tristan to her. His skin was flushed with fever, and his breathing was labored. The sight of his deteriorated state made her freeze.

"Tristan," she whispered, her hands trembling as she began to assess his condition. His wounds were inflamed, oozing pus, and she noticed the telltale blackened signs of the plague.

Tristan's voice was weak, but he managed to tell her, "Fleas. It’s Y. pestis, Sophie. You have to be careful."

Sophie pressed her lips against his burning forehead. "I’m not going to lose you," she said fiercely. She put on a mask and gloves. She administered nasal oxygen and started two IVs to make sure he was hydrated and to give him antibiotics. She had two of the brothers roll him on his belly. She gasped when she saw the wounds from his beatings. Barbaric.

“Tristan, I have to drain these abscesses and get you on more antibiotics. It’s gonna hurt.”

“Do… what… you… need… to…” Tristan was so sick, he didn’t flinch as the scalpel cut open the pus-filled sores. His eyes seemed to stare off at nothingness.

She cleaned his wounds and drained the abscesses, trying to keep her temper in check as best as she could. If she showed her anger, she feared they would throw him back in the pest-filled cell.

Nathan watched, his expression grim. "Is there anything else you need?"

Sophie nodded, not taking her eyes off Tristan. "He needs to be in a hospital. He needs an ICU."

Nathan hesitated, then turned to one of the brothers. "Go to the supply room. Get everything she needs."

Then Nathan left the room to check on Emma, his new nephew, and his brother Damon, who remained secured to a chair. Tristan, weakened and feverish, had lost consciousness.

Suddenly, Eleanor ran into the room, her face pale with worry. "Kay is failing," she said urgently. "She now has a high fever."

Sophie’s eyes flashed with anger as she turned on Nathan. "I told you before I didn’t think you were a murderer. But both Tristan and Kay are dying, and the baby may have contracted syphilis thanks to the evil your brother has done. The tribe has turned off their lab to you. They all need a hospital."

Nathan looked stricken, his earlier bravado crumbling under the pressure of the unfolding disaster.

Sophie stepped closer, her voice fierce and unwavering. "I heard your brother Caleb say that, when your dad dies, you’ll be the one in charge. Act like it. Right now, people’s lives are at stake. Show some leadership."

Nathan’s face paled further, but there was a flicker of determination in his eyes. He nodded slowly, absorbing Sophie’s words. "What do we need to do?"

Sophie’s eyes were fierce. "Release us. Let them get the medical care they need. If you want to prove you're different from Damon, start now."

* * *

The highway patrol had surrounded the tribal land, ready to intervene if necessary. Brad Killian worked tirelessly on his end negotiating with Nathan Whitlock, his phone buzzing constantly with updates from his team and the tribal leadership. Unbeknownst to him, Sophie was also pushing for their release from within the compound.

Brad's voice was firm but calm as he spoke into the phone, "Nathan, we need to resolve this peacefully. Release Tristan, Sophie, and everyone else. This can end without further bloodshed."

Nathan's voice on the other end was tense. "We're working on it. I need assurances."

Brad's patience was wearing thin, but he knew he had to keep Nathan talking. "You have my word. We just want everyone safe."

Brad could only think of the promise he made to Isobel Everhart, the woman he called Belle. He remembered the terror in her eyes when Sophie was held in the hospital before. The promise to protect her sister was one he intended to keep.

"Nathan," Brad said, his voice taking on a more personal tone, "this isn't just about duty. I made a promise to someone very important to me. Sophie is like family. Please, do the right thing."

Nathan hesitated on the other end of the line. "I’ll need to discuss this with the others.”

"Hurry, Nathan," Brad urged. "You’re running out of time."

* * *

Nathan returned to Sophie’s side, visibly shaken but resolved. "We’re getting the vehicles ready. You’ll be taken to the hospital."

Sophie felt a wave of relief but remained focused. "Thank you, Nathan. We need to move quickly."

The Whitlock brothers, now cooperative, helped prepare Sophie, Tristan, Kay, Emma, and the baby for transport. They agreed to place them in their vehicles and, at the border of their land, transfer them into waiting ambulances.

* * *

The ambulances met the convoy at the border, and the patients were swiftly transferred on board. Brad, still on the phone, received updates from his team. "They're on their way," an officer reported.

"Good." Brad exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. "Keep them safe."

As the ambulances rushed toward the hospital, Brad had one more critical negotiation to handle. The Whitlock men had committed numerous crimes, and then there was Damon, pure evil. Nathan couldn't control his baby brother, and despite pleas from the wives and his mother, he agreed to turn him in.

The chief of the tribe entered the Whitlock property with a group of tribal enforcers, and they oversaw Nathan Whitlock and his brothers, minus Damon, surrender to the highway patrol. Damon, tied and subdued, was handed over with a grim nod from Nathan before he surrendered.

With the Whitlock men in custody, Brad rushed to the hospital to check on Sophie, Tristan, Kay, Emma, and her son.

* * *

Sophie sat in the sterile, too-bright hospital waiting room, her nerves frayed and her exhaustion finally catching up with her. The adrenaline that had kept her going for hours on end had drained away, leaving her feeling hollow and numb. Her family and Brad were there beside her, their presence comforting. She felt like she was floating, detached from everything, as if this entire nightmare wasn’t quite real.

"How are you holding up?" Brad’s voice was soft, careful, as if he knew how fragile she was.

She could feel her hands trembling, the cold sweat on her skin. "I’ll be okay once I know they’re all safe," she whispered, her voice barely holding steady. The truth was, she wasn’t sure if she would ever be okay again. Not until she could see Tristan and know he was really, truly going to be alright.

The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. Every sound in the hospital seemed amplified—the distant beeping of monitors, the hushed conversations of nurses, the squeak of shoes on linoleum. It all grated on her nerves, reminding her just how much was at stake, how close she came to losing everything.

Finally, her friend Jenna emerged from the ER, her expression serious but calm, the kind of calm Sophie clung to desperately. She stood up so fast, she nearly stumbled, her heart hammering in her chest.

"We’ve stabilized Tristan and Kay," Jenna said in a steady and reassuring voice. "Kay is in surgery, and Tristan is being moved to the ICU. They both have a long road to recovery, but they’re in good hands now."

Relief hit Sophie like a tidal wave, crashing over her and knocking the breath from her lungs. Tears welled up in her eyes as she stepped forward and hugged Jenna tightly. "Thank you," she managed to choke out, her voice breaking.

Brad was beside her in an instant, squeezing her hand in his strong, steady grip. "You did it, Sophie," he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet pride she wasn’t sure she deserved. "You saved them."

Jenna smiled gently, her eyes warm. "You did, Sophie. You were incredible."

But Sophie shook her head, feeling the tears finally spill over. "So did you, Brad.” Her voice trembled with emotion. She looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the same exhaustion and relief in his eyes that she felt in her heart. They had both been pushed to their limits, and somehow, miraculously, they had made it through.

Sophie’s legs felt weak, her body drained of all strength. She sank back into the chair, her hand still gripping Brad’s as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. The relief was so overwhelming, it was almost painful, but underneath it all, there was still the fear, the worry that something could still go wrong. She knew they weren’t out of the woods yet, but for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to hope.

As she sat there, surrounded by her family and friends, Sophie realized just how much she had to lose, and just how hard she had fought to keep it all. Tristan was alive, and so was Kay, and that was enough to keep her going.

* * *

The rhythmic beeping of machines was the first thing Sophie noticed as she stepped into the ICU. The room was dimly lit, the shadows making everything feel muted and surreal. Her heart clenched at the sight of Tristan lying in the hospital bed, pale and fragile, a far cry from the strong man she loved. Tubes and wires connected him to the machines keeping him stable, and the sight made her breath catch in her throat.

For a moment, she just stood there, unable to move, as if any sudden action might shatter the fragile peace of the room. She wanted to be strong for him, to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over, but seeing him like this broke something inside her. Slowly, she walked to his bedside, her footsteps soft on the cold floor. She reached out, her hand trembling as she gently took his, the warmth of his skin a small comfort in the midst of her fear.

“Tristan…” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

As if sensing her presence, Tristan’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze unfocused at first. It took him a moment to register where he was, and then his eyes found hers, and a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Sophie…” he croaked, but there was a depth of feeling in that single word that brought fresh tears to her eyes.

She squeezed his hand gently, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. “I’m here,” she whispered, leaning in closer so he could see her clearly. “I’m right here.”

Tristan swallowed, his throat dry, but he managed to speak. “You… you saved me. Thank you, Soph. You saved my life.”

Sophie shook her head, tears spilling over despite her efforts to hold them back. “No, Tristan. We saved each other,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you. You kept me going… even when I didn’t think I could.”

Tristan’s eyes softened, his hand tightening slightly around hers. “I love you,” he whispered, the words coming out with all the strength he could muster. “I’ve loved you for so long… and I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you the way I wanted to.”

Sophie’s heart ached at the raw vulnerability in his voice. “I love you too, Tristan.” She leaned down, pressing her forehead against his, her tears falling freely now. “I’m in love with you. And you did protect me… You’ve always protected me. You’ve always been my strength.”

Tristan closed his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek as her words washed over him. “We’re going to get through this, Sophie,” he promised. “We’re going to be okay.”

Sophie nodded, her forehead still resting against his. Her heart overflowed with love for him. They had both been through so much and had fought so hard for each other. “Yes, we’re going to be okay.”

They stayed like that for a long time, the world outside the ICU fading away. In that small, quiet room, it was just the two of them, connected by the love that had carried them through so much darkness.

Tristan’s grip on her hand loosened slightly as sleep began to pull him back under, but he kept his eyes on her, not wanting to let go. “Stay with me,” he murmured.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sophie promised. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

No matter what the future held, they would face it together. And that was all she needed to know.