No one tried to stop him getting in the ambulance with her. Tragos didn't know what he would have done if they did. Ares wouldn't be happy dealing with assault charges against an EMT but if someone had stepped between him and Marcie right then, all bets were off.
He'd never ridden in the back of an ambulance before and they were smaller and more crowded than he imagined. The EMTs filled up the space with their care of her, brushing behind him and leaning around or over him to do what they needed. He sat where they told him and kept hold of her hand, the hand that only showed any signs of her strength when another burst of pain overcome her and made her muscles seize.
This time a month ago she was perfect. She was strong and defiant and beautiful. She'd had a life, and he was watching it being painfully stripped from her. There was no protection in being the child of a god, then. No protection from a horrific fate even with goddesses on your side.
One of the EMTs told him to keep talking to her, and Tragos repeated a few of his earlier words, but all of them sounded hollow. He had no power here, and he knew it.
His mind flashed, for a second, to Marcie's mother, suddenly wishing the woman had never told her the truth about her father. Yes, her search for her father had bought her to him, but were a few scraps of happiness over a few months worth watching her blood soaking into the white sheets of the stretcher? No. Better that she'd been raised away from this, never told. Lied to, to save her life.
It was too late now though. There was nothing Tragos could do but hold her hand and watch her die.