Pinned. I didn’t panic. I reached across my body, fingers shaking, and pushed. Concrete gave way. Barely. The air tasted like wires burning. Like the Lawlor name finally dying.
I shifted again.
Grunted.
And then?—
A groan. A voice.
Close.
“Fuck... Wolfe?”
Royal.
I turned my head. Pain spiderwebbed down my spine.
Fragments before the explosion came back.
Baron aiming his gun at the glass walls.
Royal driving the crowbar through the glass for us to escape.
We did. Somehow we made it to the stairwell door.
I found him now. Royal. Slumped against the wall, face covered in blood, one eye swollen shut. Still breathing. Barron was a few feet from him. On his knees. Hand pressed to his scalp. Blood soaked through his shirt. His voice was shredded.
“Go,” he croaked.
“Save her.”
I pushed off the wall. Staggered forward. My boots slid against the rubble. Everything tilted. My breath hitched. Then warmth. Running down my side. I looked down. Red. Too red.
I found it. Embedded. Metal. Long. Jagged. Stuck just above my hip, angling deep beneath the ribs.
I gritted my teeth.
Gripped the shaft.
The jagged edges dug into my palm.
Tore the skin.
I pulled. Pain hit like a lightning bolt. White. Radiating. Consuming. But I didn’t scream. Ineverscreamed.
The metal came free with a sick, wet hiss. My vision doubled. Then tripled. Blood ran into my eye. Or maybe it was sweat. Or memory.
For a second I thought I heard Camille’s voice?—
But it wasn’t her. It was the hum. Low. Distant. Real.
I dropped it. Let it clatter to the floor. Blood poured down my side. Warm. Relentless.
I staggered to my feet. Legs trembling. The stairwell had held—barely. Everything else hadn’t.
Loyal was buried under debris. I saw the movement of his chest. Shallow. Alive. Royal pushed to his feet, using the wall.
“You good?”
