“Sir.” Erasmus cautiously advanced. “We must see to your wound.”
Noah lifted up his head and finally noticed the dark stain blossoming through the silk of Alistair’s pajama top from his shoulder. It was blood. “Christ, Alistair.”
“Just a scratch,” Alistair soothed. “We can take care of it once we’re home safe. Come along. Let’s go downstairs, hmm?”
“Yeah. Maybe somewhere less… corpse-y,” Crybaby muttered.
Junior held the door open for Alistair and Noah to pass through first, but he did not follow them out. Wordlessly, he stayed behind with Medina’s body.
The house was alive with activity despite the late hour. All the lights were on, and the volunteers were scrambling from one room to the other trying to clean up the fire. Noah hated the burned smell, and the curtains of the foyer had been reduced to mere charred chunks. There was a weird scrawling pattern across the floor where the fire had blazed, trying to claim a chair and a table that were now scorched.
It didn’t even feel like his own house now. It was some other place, weirdly familiar, but not home.
It wasn’t safe here.
He saw Frida and Jamie hiding over on the edge of the room, swaddled in their bathrobes and watching the scene. Jamie was grim, and Frida was clearly terrified, clinging to her husband.
Noah knew exactly how she felt.
Erasmus stepped outside to pull the car around, and Noah huddled against Alistair’s side by the door. Crybaby brought over some thick gauze that Alistair accepted to slip inside his shirt and hold against the stab wound.
Mace was over with Frida and Jamie, talking to them and trying to comfort Frida.
Judging by the tears running down her face, it didn’t appear to be working.
Noah was numb, and his hands were cool and trembling. Maybe he was going into shock or something. None of this seemed real.
“Rafferty is on his way,” Erasmus announced when he returned. “He’ll take care of everything. The usual fee. I’ve already instructed him to check Medina for anything that could have been used as a detonation device.”
“Excellent,” Alistair said. “Thank you.”
Crybaby limped over to join them. “We ready?”
“Yes. Let’s go.”
Noah didn’t realize he hadn’t put on shoes until Alistair scooped him up in his arms to carry him out to the car. Erasmus opened the back door so Alistair could slide Noah in before joining him in the backseat.
Erasmus got behind the wheel, waiting for Crybaby to hobble over and get in. He asked, “You all right?”
“I’ve had worse,” Crybaby replied.
“Being shot?”
“Being shot. Come on. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Erasmus put the car in gear and started driving away from the mansion.
Noah glanced back at it through the window, and the pit in his stomach grew. He could see Medina on top of him with the knife again, the blade flashing, and the awful look in his eyes…
He would’ve killed Noah; of that, Noah had no doubt.
Alistair had saved his life.
Cuddling closer to Alistair’s side, Noah whispered, “Why? Why… why would he do this?”
“I don’t know.” Alistair patted Noah’s side. “I regret that I reacted the way I did. I robbed us of the chance to find out who was working with him and to what end.”
“Working with him?”
