“Found them!” someone shouts.
“Don’t let them get away!” Crusher’s voice carries across the compound.
“Thank fuck.”
Max tightens his hold on me and starts running toward the clubhouse.
“We’re still heading to the bunker until we figure out what the hell is going on,” he calls back over his shoulder.
I groan weakly.
I really hate the bunker, even with my modified room Tank set up for me years ago.
“Take her straight to the med bay,” Patch orders, already moving beside us despite the way he’s holding his side. “And any others that are injured.”
“I’m not injured, Patch,” I rasp. “Just sick.”
Max glances down at me.
“Your leg is bleeding, honey.”
I blink.
“What?”
He shifts his grip so I can see.
The light catches something dark soaking through the leg of my sleep pants.
Blood.
A lot of it.
My stomach flips.
“Oh,” I whisper faintly.
That explains why my leg stopped working.
“I’ve been shot,” I say slowly. “Why don’t I feel anything?”
“Adrenaline,” Patch answers, not even looking surprised at this news. “Hate to tell you this, Abby, but it’s going to hurt like hell real soon.”
I nod, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the blood soaking through my pants.
It’s everywhere.
Way more than there should be.
My head starts to swim. The world tilts sideways like someone knocked the ground loose beneath me.
Max’s voice sounds farther away than it should.
“Patch, she’s going pale.”
“No shit,” Patch snaps. “Keep moving.”
I try to focus on something…anything…but all I can hear is the heavy thump-thump of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
