I kept my hand extended.
He stared at it as if he’d forgotten what hands were for. What trust meant. Then his fingers closed around mine, grip weak, hand ice-cold, skin rough with calluses that told stories, and I pulled.
He came up more easily than expected. All lean muscle despite the blood loss, controlled power even half-conscious. But his legs buckled immediately, deadweight pressing against me.
Heat radiated from him despite the hypothermia. Feverish. Infection already setting in or adrenaline crash, it didn’t matter. Both were bad.
“N-need to...” Words slurred. Consciousness flickered like a candle in wind.
“Yeah, you need a hospital.” I shifted, taking his weight across my shoulders, careful of the dislocated joint. Combat gear pressed cold against my side where his vest touched me. “But I’m guessing that’s not happening.”
“C-can’t go b-back.”
Raw terror in three words.
Made my decision.
I dragged him toward my building’s service door, his blood leaving a trail I hoped snow would cover. The sirens grew louder. Two blocks away, maybe less. Red lights painting the falling snow.
“Stay with me.” Nurse voice cutting through his deteriorating awareness, sharp and commanding. “What’s your name?”
“B-Blackout.” He shook his head violently, blood spattering across my coat, my face, warm then cold. “No. Not... not that. Not r-real.”
“Then who are you?”
We reached the door. I fumbled with frozen fingers for keys, his weight pinning me against metal. His breath came ragged against my neck, too fast, too shallow. Hyperventilating or lung damage, or both.
“X-Xavier.” The name came out like a confession. Like pain. “Maybe. I think... I was Xavier.”
His knees gave out.
I caught him. Barely. Both of us going down hard against the door frame, his head cracking against my shoulder, body going slack. Deadweight now, all that controlled violence gone limp and vulnerable in my arms.
His face was close. Too close. I could see the scar bisecting his left eyebrow, the shadow of beard, the way his jaw was set even unconscious, like he was used to taking hits and staying standing.
Dangerous. This man was dangerous.
Even bleeding out in the snow, there was something about the way he moved, the automatic reach for a weapon, the tactical assessment. Something that said threat in a language my hindbrain understood.
My pulse kicked higher. Not fear this time.
Something else.
I looked up at the falling snow, at sirens painting the sky red two blocks over, at blood seeping between my fingers where I pressed against his scalp wound.
This was the moment.
Call for help. Do the right thing. The safe thing.
Chapter 2
Clare
The man weighed a metric ton of solid muscle and terrible life choices.
The service door slammed shut behind us, wind screaming protest as I shoved it closed with my hip. Xavier’s weight dragged me sideways, my shoulder hitting the doorframe hard enough to jar. He didn’t make a sound. Unconscious or too far gone to register pain€¦ neither was good.
Snow whipped through the gap before the latch caught. I locked it, fingers clumsy with cold and panic, while half-dragging a dying man across my threshold.
