Adam’s eyes found him, half-lidded, pupils blown wide. Still fierce. Still Adam. “Did I get her?” he rasped, voice shredded but teasing.
Noah let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a curse. “Yeah, baby. You got her.”He pressed harder, feeling the pulse under his hand. “You also got blood all over the fuckin’ marble…again, but we’ll deal with that later. Seriously, what do you have against expensive flooring.”
Adam chuckled weakly, head tipping back against the wall, and for one raw moment, Noah could see the exhaustion in his face, the cracks in the armor he wore for everyone else.
“Don’t go to sleep,” Noah warned, voice softer now. “I swear to God, if you die I will make sure everyone knows you got ambushed by a geriatric old lady.”
That got him a ghost of a grin. “They’d never believe you.”
“Yeah, they will,” Noah said, pressing down again as the sound of approaching footsteps thundered closer. “I have video.”
“I’ll come back from the dead and tell everyone it's a deep fake,” he huffed.
“You dick,” Noah shot back, but his fingers never stopped pressing down. He used his other hand to check Adam’s pulse,the steady rhythm beneath his fingertips unraveling something tight inside him. There it was, that stubborn heartbeat that had refused to quit through every nightmare they’d ever survived.
“It doesn’t look serious,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.
Adam hissed as Noah tied a quick tourniquet, knuckles white from the effort. “Weird, ’cause it hurts like a bitch.”
After a beat, Adam asked, “Freckles?”
“On my way,” Atticus’s voice came through their comms, clipped and steady.
Noah could still hear Calliope giving orders in his ear, the layered chaos of voices, footsteps, and camera pings, but he tuned it out. The world narrowed to the marble floor, the smell of blood and ozone, and the sound of Adam breathing through his teeth. The rest of the hunt could burn for all he cared. His husband was bleeding out on imported stone.
He started an internal clock: stabilize, hold, wait.
Atticus arrived barely a minute later, mask still on, blue and white leather streaked with blood that wasn’t his. He dropped to his knees beside his brother without preamble, eyes sweeping the wound before nodding for Noah to shift.
“Took you long enough,” Adam muttered, because of course he did.
Atticus’s voice was dry as dust. “Well, you know, you could havenot gotten stabbed,so I could enjoy one child-free night with my husband. But no, as usual, you have to make everything about you.”
He said it while moving, gloves on, gauze unrolled, fingers sure and clinical.
“Oh, please,” Adam snarked, pale lips curling faintly. “You hate hunting. Admit it, I did you a favor. Now you’ve got an excuse not to spend the next two hours sweating through your overpriced superhero costume.”
Atticus didn’t even glance up. “You’re not funny when you’re bleeding.”
“He’s losing a lot of blood,” Noah whispered.
“She didn’t hit an artery,” Atticus replied calmly. “Adam’s body is just as dramatic as he is. We’ve got blood bags in the infirmary, but I don’t think it’s that dire.” He pulled a small kit from his belt. “Still, I’ll start an IV, get fluids in him, and reassess after Bev’s send-off.”
“Can he wait that long?” Noah asked, unease twisting in his gut.
Adam was already shaking his head, jaw set. “I’m not missing this bitch’s death. Aiden said he’s got something special planned for her.”
Noah shot him an incredulous look. “Who cares? You’ve seen people get tortureddozensof times.”
“But this one’s special,” Adam insisted. “Zaney’s been waiting for this for years. We can’t miss it. How often does someone get to kill their abusive parent?”
“Not often enough,” Noah muttered, but his tone was all resignation.
Atticus sighed, the sound long-suffering and fond. “How about this,” he said, voice dipping into that calm, no-nonsense cadence that could talk killers off ledges. “We’ll take Adam back to the comms room. I’ll hook him up to fluids, he can watch the rest of the hunt with you. Then we’ll reconvene at the workshop for Bev’s grand finale. After that, I’ll take him by my office for some quick labs to make sure he doesn’t need inpatient care. Sound good?”
“I’m fine,” Adam argued immediately, pushing Atticus’s hand away and bracing against the wall. “I’m good. I’m not sitting out the rest of the hunt.”
He groaned as he forced himself upright. His skin was chalky, damp with sweat, eyes a little too bright. He swayed,caught himself, and gritted his teeth. “See? Still standing. I can help herd this bitch.”
