Neve blinked, the scenery rocking back and forth, everything bouncing and shifting until she thought she’d puke. She tried to focus, but her vision dimmed into dull, blurry shapes that barely stood out in the low light.
Someone squeezed her hand, and she managed to roll her head to stare into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. “Coul…”
Her voice died, his name fading into a groan as pain flared through her chest, threatening to pull her under.
Coulter leaned down, brushing hair back from her face. “Easy. We’re almost at the bunker. Just… stay with me.”
She nodded, or maybe she only thought she had, her head far too heavy to move effectively. She inhaled, drinking in notes of gun oil and smoke layered with antiseptic cream — a combination that roiled her stomach. A constant hum vibrated up through her back, gravel crunching in the background.
She faded, roused by the harsh glare of fluorescent lights passing above her, Coulter’s hand still holding hers as Wynn spoke from what sounded a thousand miles away. Neve blinked, and Darwin loomed over her, staring at her side as he talked softly to someone else.
Wynn, she assumed.
He shifted his gaze, meeting hers. “Easy, Neve. You’ve lost a lot of blood, but we’ve got you. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”
Another nod, only this time she knew she’d only thought it, the room slipping into darkness. A few voices mumbled in the background, a comforting warmth held her hand.
More pain, but it wasn’t the blinding white-hot fire it had been before, this was more of a dull ache wrapped in a chemical haze. Dim lights illuminated the space, the strong scent of citrus cleaner and fresh coffee permeating the air. She stared at the ceiling, slowly running through a checklist — right side heavily bandaged, pinpricks of pain seeping through that dull ache. Every breath echoed through her ribs, the air wheezing out with a deep, grating click. Patches of skin burned, but compared to the gunshot wound, they seemed inconsequential.
She drifted for a bit, coming back out god knew how much later. Her head still felt heavy, as if she’d taken too many pills or drank one too many tequilas, the woozy feeling tempered by a familiar warmth.
Coulter.
His name formed before she managed to turn her head, stare at his massive form wedged into a chair beside the bed, his hand curled protectively over hers. Dark eyelashes rested against his cheeks, his legs propped up on a makeshift ottoman. Deep purples and blues stained half of his visible skin, and he had what looked like bandages layered beneath his hoodie.
She must have made a noise because he went from sleeping to threat-ready in a heartbeat, muscles primed, gaze sweeping the room. And she knew, if he’d had a weapon, he would have drawn it.
He snapped his gaze to hers, some of the tension easing from his face as he kicked his feet off the stool, leaned in. “Hey.”
She licked her lips, holding tight. “Hey.”
He reached behind him, grabbed a glass and offered her some water. He smiled as she swallowed a few sips, still staring at her as if he wanted to swaddle her in bubble wrap but knowing she’d hate it. “About time you woke up.”
She frowned. “How long?”
“Three days. Though, I swear Darwin gave you something because he kept telling me to calm down. That you’d heal faster if you rested, and that you only did that when forced.” Coulter raised her hand, kissed the back. “He’s not wrong.”
Neve coughed, grunting when it sent a shock of pain through her ribs. “Three days?”
“You’re lucky I didn’t make it a full week.”
Neve glanced at the doorway as Darwin leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his glasses still not quite straight.
He shook his head, ambled over to the bed. “Welcome back.”
She smiled, grimacing when every small movement seemed to bleed through the pain meds. “Pretty sure I have you to thank for that.”
“I can only take half the credit. Your teammates got you here.”
“Great, now I owe everyone.”
“With how reckless you all are, I’m sure you’ll get the chance to pay them back.”
She looked at Coulter. “It was more calculated than reckless. Ask Wynn. She did the math.”
“Oh, Wynn told us all about it. Coulter, too. I swear Gus damn near had an aneurism. Would have if you weren’t the luckiest person I know.” Darwin gestured at her side. “Bullet was a through-and-through. Missed your lung and liver. All your major vessels. It did gouge a chunk out of a rib, which is what hurts, but otherwise, very anticlimactic.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
