I don’t think I’m going to die. Despite the stinging pain, I’m pretty sure the cut on my shoulder has slowed its bleeding significantly, especially with Rage helping to keep pressure on it.
But I’m not sure about Rowan’s injuries. When I think of someone getting shot, I think of someone dying.
“What—what do we do!” I ask, the trembling from earlier returning as the stress from the situation makes my mind start spinning.
Rage lets out a low growl, his large hand twitching against where he’s still holding pressure on my cut.
“Take a breath, Sweetheart,” Griffin growls. “Your scent. It’s making it hard to think.”
It must be going crazy right now. My jaw clamps shut as I force my lungs to expand. I can taste the bitter aftertaste of my fear in the back of my throat.
“S—Sorry,” I say.
Ash doesn’t even comment on my apology. He paces back and forth in the room like a caged tiger, his lips curled back in a snarl.
“This is a fucking shit show,” he growls.
“We need to find someone with some sort of medical knowledge,” Griffin says slowly.
“No shit, Sherlock! The one person we know might as well have said ‘fuck off, you’re on your own’! Do you know anybody, ‘cause I sure as helldon’t!”
Ash says it sarcastically, but when Griffin purses his lips in silence, I put my own anxiety aside long enough to open myself up to our bond.
Griffin is hesitating. But hesitation means he’s holding something back.
“Do you?” I ask, my eyes going wide with hope.
Not because of me, but for Rowan.
“Not exactly,” he mutters. “But it’s better than nothing.”
“The rest of us can’t do that mind-reading shit you two can do,” Ash snaps, waving between Griffin and me, “So you’re going to have to fucking spell it out for the rest of us.”
“I knew some ring girls who picked up shifts at some of the fighting rings I used to go. They’re not professionally trained or anything, but they’re better than nothing.”
“Do they know how to patch up a bullet hole?” Rowan rasps.
“Doesn’t hurt to try and find a girl that does,” Griffin says, seriously.
“What’s the catch?” Ash asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “There has to be another kinda catch for you to be all tight lipped about this.”
“The only way I know how to contact them... is through my dad.”
My eyes go wide and a soft whine leaves my throat when I feel the intensity of the emotions swirling around in Griffin’s chest.
He glances at me before his lips pull back in what I think is his attempt at a reassuring smile. It looks more like a grimace, than anything.
“Yeah, so not great.”
“The fucker that sold you to that hellhole?” Ash asks, his expression going serious.
“Yeah, that guy,” Griffin sighs.
A crazed gleam twinkles in Ash’s silver eyes. He even cracks his knuckles.
“Glad I didn’t get rid of the truck yet, then. When do we leave? I’ve been in the mood to knock some fucking heads around.”
CHAPTER 42
