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A ping of metal sparks beside me and I scream, throwing my forearms up to cover my face. Another bullet hits the wall, and I step back.

“Don’t fucking shoot her!” Ryker screams.

My first mistake is closing my eyes. Strong arms circle my waist and I’m pulled, in what direction I’m not sure. The strong smell of blood makes me think it’s Xavier, but I can hardly gather a thought before more bullets fly.

“Down, X!” Someone bellows—I think it’s Zayden—and the world tips. Air is knocked from my lungs for a second time, and a firm body holds me close, darkening the light beyond my closed eyelids.

“We need to move,” Xavier says in my ear, and I’m unsure if I nod or if he doesn’t bother waiting for a response. I’m on my knees, slipping once again on my dress, Xavier helping me the best he can as bullets fly between Zayden and Ryker.

When we reach the end of the hall, Xavier pulls me around the corner, sitting against the wall. He’s shaking, his clothes sodden with blood, and Zayden has stopped firing to crouch beside us.

“We need to go. Now.” He looks at his brother. “Can you walk?” Xavier nods, and Zayden cups my cheek, rage flashing through his expression. I no doubt have blood all over my face and the beginnings of some nasty bruises. “Let’s get out of here before the cops show up.”

Chapter 8

Silence

“Take your pants off.”

“Take your pants off,” Xavier snaps back, and I glare at him as I sit on the coffee table in front of him and pull on latex gloves.

“I need to look at the wound. Pants. Off.”

Dropping his head back against the couch cushions, Xavier wets his lips and tugs off his T-shirt, his tattooed body shining with sweat and blood. Finally, he unbuttons his jeans, pushing them down, but nowhere near enough. Yale appears with a first aid kit and places it beside me. Zayden is standing by the fireplace, arms folded, expression dark.

“You need to push them further down,” I say.

“That’s all you’re getting. Just sew me up so I can go home.”

I scowl. “You’ll let a stranger see your dick behind a McDonald’s, but you won’t take your pants off for a medical professional?”

His head snaps up. “How the fuck do you know that?” His gaze shifts to Yale. “You fucker!”

Yale winces but waves him off. “She’s my best friend. I tell her everything.”

“So she knows about the time you stopped at a diner for food, forgot your wallet, and paid for it by fucking the waitress, and then it turned out she didn’t even work there?”

Yale and I nod. “Yep.”

I tear open an antiseptic wipe and clean up some of the blood. My wrist twinges, and my knuckles are already bruised. I try to focus on Xavier, but my body is in bits. I’m gonna feel tonight for at least a week. All I want to do is help him, then sink into the hottest bath I can handle, but judging by Zayden’s demeanor, tonight is far from over. He didn’t say a word on the drive home but kept inspecting my bruises. His expression warred between anger and guilt, and I need to get him alone and tell him in no uncertain terms that tonight was not his fault. Not even close.

“How does it look?” Yale asks.

I frown. “I really don’t know. We should go to a hospital; he could have internal bleeding.”

Xavier rests his head back on the pillow. “Nah, I’ve had that before. I know what it feels like.”

“That’s not how internal bleeding works!” I cry, exasperated. “Xavier, you could die.”

“Then fix me.” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes steady breaths through the pain.

This is ridiculous. I know we’d have to file a police report if we go to the hospital, but if the alternative is Xavier bleeding out or dying of an infection, surely it’s better he lives?

I glance at Zayden and hate that I do. He’s the one Xavier and Yale turn to, and I know how heavy that burden is on him, but I don’t know what to do. He gives me a small nod, and I sigh.

Yale gets me a needle and thread, and I sanitize as best I can with alcohol. I’ve never done this outside of the hospital before. I don’t have the right tools, and I’m shaking like a leaf and sweating through my dress.

Wiping my forehead with the back of my arm, I lean closer. “This is going to hurt.”