Rage collapses to the floor, his body convulsing as his eyes roll back into his head. He’s so big that I can feel the impact of his collapsing like a sack of potatoes hitting the floor.
“No!” I cry out, stumbling forward, my voice hoarse from my earlier screams.
My hands are shaky, as I fall to my knees at his side, frantically lifting his arm to feel for a pulse. God, his arm is heavy. He’s completely knocked out. Dead weight. Hopefully not actually dead.
They wouldn’t do that, would they? Kill a fighter? Is that a punishment for breaking the rules here?
I mean, Rage didn’t follow their instructions. I tried to help him. But he refused. He was all teeth, clenched fists, and loud roars at any mention of willingly getting chained to the wall again.
I can feel phantom twitches down my arms and to my fingertips as I feel for his pulse. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never done this before.
I just need to make sure he’s alive.
He’d better be alive.
The door creaks open with a pop and a hiss, and I see three silhouettes against the bright lights from the hallway.
The older trainer and the younger trainer rush into the room and stare at me with wide, shocked eyes, their gazes darting between me and Rage’s collapsed body.
“God dammit,” The older one grumbles, his frustration clear in every line of his body. “You know how much extra fuckin’ work it takes to deal with him after we’ve gotta knock him out like this?”
I flinch backwards from the harshness in his tone.
“Shut the fuck up,” the third figure says before he moves into the room much more slowly.
Hazel-green eyes. A whiff of basil.
“Rowan!” I stumble to my feet and rush over to him.
Oh my god. I didn’t get a good look at him last night, when Jett took me from him. He looks like he’s in terrible pain right now. A living, walking bruise.
He hasn’t even changed out of the clothes he was in last night. They’re still covered in blood.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” I say, my hands hovering over his body. I’m worried that if I touch him anywhere, I’ll just hurt him.
The tears I try to keep at bay when I’m around people I don’t feel safe with burst free. I can’t stand watching Rage get knocked unconscious and seeing Rowan this hurt.
“Shhhh,” Rowan soothes, wrapping his arms around me and tucking me into his chest.
I can practically feel the way his breath hitches with pain from the movement, so I do my best to hover my arms around him instead of giving him the hug I actually want to give him.
He angles his body between mine and the other two trainers.
Oh, yeah, I’m naked.
“Are you okay, Sugar?” Rowan murmurs.
“I’m fine. Areyouokay? You look—you look?—“
“Like I got the crap beat out of me,” he huffs,wincing.
I remember the way Jett practically stomped down on Rowan’s ribs last night. They’re probably broken. How are broken ribs treated?
Rowan pulls away from the hug, peering down at me. He runs his hands up and down my body, as if checking to see if I was lying about not having any injuries.
His hands tremble as they do so. I don’t know whether it’s from his injuries or not knowing whether I was okay for however long I was away.
Maybe both.
