I have to use both hands to move my left leg, the one with the bullet lodged in it, over the edge of the seat before spinning entirely out.
Despite his and my best efforts, I end up on my knees, thanks to the awkward angle and the placement of the wound, screaming at the top of my lungs in pain.
Bile rises up, reminding me I haven’t eaten today, and I let the acid out onto the driveway. My body dry heaves when it’s empty.
Empty, like I feel right now. The adrenaline is wearing off. Being safer than I was before lets me be vulnerable.
“Jesus, let me get help.” Dad goes back to the house.
He’s not squeamish and has never had a problem getting bloody, but when it comes to us, his kids, Dad’s always been a worrywart. Mom usually dealt with our cuts and scrapes. That is, until Valor got old enough to learn and took over.
Should shift, let me heal.My wolf advises.
But he can’t guarantee that shifting will push the bullet out without complications. I fall to my side and lie on the cool cement, letting the cold soak into my body.
“Royal,” Valor says.
I hadn’t realized I’d closed my eyes until I have to open them to look at him. “Yeah?”
“Quit bleeding in my driveway.” He offers me his hand.
Valor is blank, devoid of anything. It’s not the stone-cold killer or the calculated interrogator. He’s blank like when his first wife died.
Bad. Bad.My wolf worries.
But I push myself up until I can grab Valor’s hand, and, per usual, my older brother cares for me. He pulls me up almost effortlessly to precariously stand on one leg. Then he pulls my arm across the back of his neck, supporting my weight so we can hobble into his garage.
Was that garage door open when I got here? Or am I missing time? Where did Dad go? Mom? Kerrianne? Antonella?
I don’t ask questions, not aloud. Answers will come if I’m patient.Black spots dance at the edges of my vision, but I fight them away.
He takes me into the main portion of the house and then straight to the stairs that lead to his lair. Unlike mine, warm and full of technology and neat gadget toys, Valor’s is cold. Stainless steel wall panels, sloped floors, and drains.
Oh no.The scent of blood meets us before we even get through the secret passage to his lair.
“What did you do?” I growl as he tries to lead me through.
I stop walking and push him away from me, making him square up to me in the narrow space of the doorframe.
“It was too late when you called. She couldn’t be saved.” Valor doesn’t explain further.He doesn’t have to.
Valor sidesteps me into his lair, and I want to grab him by the shirt, haul him back, and kick his ass.
Chained to the far back wall, snarling and snapping, its jaws is a vicious, freshly turned wolf.
Poor Antonella.My wolf sympathizes but doesn’t really know what that’s like.
Freshly turned wolves are violent little delights. They’re all animal. It can take days or weeks for them to find their consciousness.
Where he finds sympathy, I find rage. The fact that Valor wouldn’t hold it together and verify... I try to let it go. What’s done is done, but the pain for Antonella’s change, forced and uninvited, weighs heavily on me.
“Oh great, you found him.” Uncle Neil’s voice draws my attention away from the wolf-shaped elephant in the room. He’s chained to the wall adjacent to Antonella, who’s still snapping and snarling.
“Oh great, he’s still alive.” I snark back as Valor drags me over to his stainless steel table.
“Oh great, two sarcastic assholes,” Valor grumbles as he guides me onto the table.
I should take that as a sign that Valor probably isn’t ready to talk about the battle that unfolded here. But he walks over to his cabinet of tools, and my lower pain threshold has my mouth running on nervous energy, patience be damned. “So, what happened? Where’s Kerrianne and Mom?”
