Chapter 8 - Out of the Abyss
"I've got you," Damian choked out, his voice shaking with pure, unadulterated emotion as he pulled a small pocket knife from his belt and sliced through the heavy zip-ties binding her wrists. "I've got you, Khloe. I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry I was late..."
"You weren't late," Khloe sobbed, leaning her heavy, freezing head against his neck, her arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. "You came for me..."
"Always," Damian whispered, lifting her effortlessly into his arms despite the deep knife wound in his shoulder and the blood pouring from his head.
The water level was rising rapidly, hitting his chest as he waded out of the cell into the main corridor. The current was strong, threatening to sweep them both off their feet into the subterranean dark.
"Boss!" Leo's voice boomed from the top of the concrete stairs at the end of the hallway. "Over here! Grab the line!"
Leo hurled a heavy yellow nylon rescue rope down the stairwell into the water.
Damian caught the rope with one hand, wrapping it tightly around his forearm while holding Khloe securely against his chest with his other arm.
"PULL!" Leo roared to the men above.
With a massive effort, Leo and three guards hauled Damian and Khloe out of the freezing, swirling water, pulling them up the stone stairs into the upper basement level just as the subterranean vault below flooded completely to the ceiling.
They burst out through the heavy steel hatch into the rainy night air of Staten Island.
Medics from Damian's private security team were already waiting with stretchers, heavy thermal blankets, and IV equipment.
"Get her into the heated rig now!" Damian shouted, refusing to lie down on a stretcher himself, carrying Khloe directly into the back of the mobile medical unit.
The paramedics wrapped Khloe in three layers of warm blankets, placing an oxygen mask over her face and starting an IV line of warmed saline solution.
Damian sat right beside her on the bench, holding her shaking, blue-tinged hand tightly between his own bloody palms. He refused to let the doctors touch his own knife wound until Khloe's vitals stabilized.
"Her body temperature is eighty-nine degrees," the medic reported, watching the cardiac monitor. "Severe hypothermia, blood loss from a blunt-force laceration on her shoulder. But she's strong, Mr. Russo. She's going to make it."
Khloe slowly lifted her hand under the thick blanket, her fingers reaching up to touch Damian's bruised, blood-streaked jawline.
"Damian..." she whispered weakly beneath the oxygen mask.
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Damian leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as hot tears finally spilled down his cheeks.
"I'm right here, my sweet girl," Damian murmured, his voice cracking with a tenderness he had hidden from the world for three long years. "You're safe now. Nobody will ever touch you again."
