I yank off my shirt, leaving myself in just my sports bra. I ball up the fabric and press it hard against the gunshot wound.
Grim doesn’t even flinch. That’s bad. That means he’s deeply unconscious.
“Come on, Grim,” I mutter, applying more pressure. “Don’t you dare die on me. Not after everything we’ve been through. I’m too mad at you. You can’t die until I have it out with you. I want answers…do you hear me?”
He doesn’t so much as move. Even his chest barely rises.
43
Wren
My arms are shaking from the exertion of holding my shirt to Grim’s wound. My back aches from hunching over him. But I don’t dare let up the pressure. Not even for a second.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I hear the sound of an engine in the distance. I look up, my heart leaping with hope.
Drake’s truck comes into view through the trees, and relief floods me.
His vehicle skids to a stop, and Drake jumps out. He’s carrying a small bag and a couple of water bottles.
“Thank god,” I gasp. “Drake, I need—”
I stop when I see what he’s holding. A basic first aid kit. The kind you’d find in any household. It’ll have Band-Aids, antiseptic wipes, Tylenol, and some gauze, if we’re lucky.
It’s not enough.
“That’s all you brought?” I yell. “Where’s the medical equipment? The IV fluids? The blood? Drake, we need—”
“It was more important that I get here.” His voice is tight. “We need to move you both to a place of safety. Right now.”
“No.” I shake my head. “We need to take Grim to a hospital. He needs surgery. He needs—”
“That’s not an option.” Drake’s jaw clenches. “Not until we clear your names. If we take him to a hospital, they’ll arrest you both the second you walk through those doors. Then you’ll have an unfortunate accident, and that will be the end of that.”
Drake crouches down beside me, his eyes scanning over Grim’s injuries. His expression tightens for a moment.
“They did a number on him,” he says.
“Is that all you have to say?”
Drake puts a hand on my shoulder. “Wren, listen to me. I know you’re worried, but Grim will be fine. I promise you. Did you manage to get the phone?”
“How can you ask me that? I don’t care about the cellphone.”
“Yes, you do. That cellphone is the reason Grim is hurt. He isn’t dying; you can get that out of your head and snap out of this panic. Give me the cellphone.”
I pull in a deep breath, feeling a little better. He looks so sure that Grim is going to be okay that I believe him, but not enough to take my hand off the shirt pressed against his wound.
“It’s in my pocket.”
I shift slightly, careful to maintain the pressure on Grim’s injury, and Drake reaches into my jeans pocket and pulls it out.
“Jesus.” He turns it over in his hands. “It’s pretty broken. The body is cracked, and the screen is completely smashed.”
“I know. I dropped it from a height. Do you think we can get it fixed?”
Drake presses the power button. Nothing happens. He tries again, holding it down longer. Still nothing.
“There could be internal damage. I know someone we can trust. He’s a genius with this kind of thing. I’ll take this to him as soon as the two of you are safe.”
