“Let me see,” he says, his voice low.
I instantly obey. It’s like second nature. Always has been.
But I do scrunch my eyes shut. I don’t want to see.
He takes my wrist in his hand, holding me more delicately than I ever thought possible as he peers down at my bloodied flesh.
“It’s probably going to need stitches, but you’re not gonna bleed out,” he sighs, his shoulders losing some of their tension.
My shoulders do the same, and another sob leaves my throat. “So I’m not gonna die?”
“You’re not gonna die, Shortcake. Not if we have anything to say about it.”
“Is—is the bond mark okay?” I whisper, still not daring to look down at myself.
“It’s fine,” Ash sighs. “Missed it by an inch or so.”
“Th—thank you,” I manage to say before clinging to Rage and burying my face in his chest. Sobs of relief flow out of me, right along with my tears.
There’s the tearing of fabric as Griffin assesses Rowan’s wounds.
“You’re practically turning my jeans into hoochie-daddy shorts,” Rowan hisses through clenched teeth.
“What’s worse, having shitty style or bleeding out on this floor ‘cause I can’t tell how bad this gunshot is?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rowan mutters.
When he notices me watching him, his lips quirk up in a strained smile.
But he can’t hide how terrified he is. I can feel it through our bond.
Griffin has a better handle on our bond. He seems to be able to send specific emotions through to me when he wants to .
Rowan doesn’t do that. He feels what he feels and I can feel it too.
He thinks he’s going to die.
Which makes me think he’s going to die too.
Rage holds me tighter, a purr vibrating through his chest and into mine.
My eyes fly up to meet his.
He’s trying to comfort me.
The simple action brings tears springing back into my eyes.
His own go wide and the purring stops, as if he’s afraid he did something wrong.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say, reaching up and cupping his face. He doesn’t flinch away, even though my hand is bloody. “You’re just being so sweet.”
Rowan lets out a hiss of pain.
“How bad is it?” I ask, my head snapping to Griffin and Rowan so quickly it tugs at the cut on my shoulder.
“He’ll need medical attention, but he’s not gonna bleed out,” Griffin answers, tying Rowan’s hoodie around his thigh to stem the bleeding. “Missed an artery, which is good.”
Griffin’s gaze shoots behind me and his eyes narrow.
