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Fuck.

My hands hover over her body as I fight the desperate urge to pull her into my arms.

But I can’t.

I know better.

There is blood beneath her head and I can’t risk moving her, can’t risk hurting her more. She pulls in a ragged breath, her back rising slightly, and the sound rips straight through me.

“Baby?” I ask, gently placing my hand on her shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

“Fuck,” I hiss, my eyes burning as I force myself to look her over. Really look at the extent of her injuries. The eye that I can see is swollen completely shut, a dark angry purple color already forming around it. Her nose is bent at an awkward angle and blood is dripping from her mouth onto the hardwood floor beneath her.

A fist squeezes my chest.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I spit out, my stomach rolling violently. There is blood staining the side of her shirt and my heart climbs into my throat. My hands are shaking so fucking bad as I grab the hem of her shirt and drag it up, letting out a hiss.

Her ribs are almost completely covered in bruises and there is a shard of something poking out of her side. I stare at it, my mind spinning. I can’t make sense of what I’m looking at. Then, it hits me.

It’s wood.

She has a piece of wood sticking out of her body.

It’s so fucking wrong.

She sucks in another breath.

I focus on the sound, using it to calm me as I fumble for my phone in my pocket. As soon as I get it out, I dial 911. My fingers keep slipping across the screen as I try to put it on speakerphone and I can’t understand why until I see the smears of blood on the device.

“Fuck.”

“911, what is your emergency?”

“My girlfriend’s been attacked,” I say, setting the phone down on the floor and placing my hand on Lennon’s shoulder as she sucks in another ragged breath.

Just keep breathing, baby.

“I found her in her apartment, she’s bleeding and there is something sticking out of her side.” My voice cracks and I swallow hard and I squeeze my eyes closed.

“Is she responsive?” the woman asks and I shake my head.

“No, she’s breathing but she’s not responding.” I grit my teeth. Why the hell does this feel like it’s taking so damn long? “You need to get here.”

“What is the address?”

After I rattle off the address for the bakery and direct her to the apartment upstairs, she starts asking me more questions. I answer them the best I can but when she tells me to stay on the line until help arrives, I grit my teeth. I’ve given her all the damn information she needs. Why the fuck else would I stay on this damn phone? I let out a growl and hang up.

I need my brothers.

With the phone still on the floor in front of me, I find Jumper’s contact and press send.

It rings.

And rings.

Pick up, fucker.