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Panic and fear take over for a moment, and I whimper, “Shit! You need to go to the hospital.”

My gaze darts to his face, and watching him fight to open his eyes before drifting under makes it feel like my heart is being pulverized. His breathing is very shallow, and when his eyes open again, I say, “We’re turning back.”

Rowan lets out a soft grunt, then the man carries a bucket of water into the room and says, “My name is Javier. I’m the chief steward.”

I watch as he sets it down on the floor beside the bed.

“Hi.” My voice is shaky. “We need to turn around and go back. He needs a hospital.”

Javier shakes his head. “Mr. Callahan just gave strict orders not to stop until we dock in Cartagena.”

The blood drains from my face, and my eyes flit between Rowan and Javier.

Rowan could die if we don’t get him medical attention.

“I’m changing the order,” I snap, desperation flooding my heart. “Turn back right now!”

Again, Javier shakes his head. “Let’s clean Mr. Callahan. I took a first aid class and can close some of his wounds.”

That’s not enough!

Leaning over Rowan, I grab one of his guns and point it at Javier. “I said turn this fucking boat around!”

He just stares at me like I’m no threat at all.

“Please,” I beg, my throat straining.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Callahan.”

He moves around me, and wetting the washcloth, he squeezes the excess water out before starting to clean Rowan’s chest.

Shit.

Dropping the gun on the bed again, I hold out a trembling hand to him. “I’ll clean him while you take care of the cuts.” When Javier glances at me as he hands me the washcloth, I add, “Do your best, please.”

A deathly silence descends in the room while I gently clean every drop of blood from Rowan’s body. My eyes keep darting to his face, hoping and praying he regains full consciousness, but he continues to fade in and out.

Javier first cleans the stab wound to Rowan’s side before sealing it with surgical glue, then he begins to treat all the other cuts and bruises.

My eyes freeze on the stab wound, and I worry that Rowan might have damage to his kidney or liver.

“How bad do you think the stab wound is?” I ask Javier.

“I can’t tell for sure. Maybe three to four inches—”

“No,” I whimper.

Javier holds up his hand. “I’m not a doctor, but it looks like the blade slid along his muscle instead of going straight in.”

“That’s good, right?” I ask, hope blooming in my chest.

“If that’s the case, the risk of him having internal damage is less.”

I lean over Rowan and place my hand against his jaw, where blue discoloring is starting to show just above his beard. “You hear that, my wolf? You’re going to be fine, okay?”

His eyes open, and seeing his striking light blue irises breathes life into my soul. He stares at me for a moment and manages to lift his arm, but he doesn’t have enough strength to take hold of me, and his hand slumps back to the bed.

I brush my palm up and down his left arm before leaning closer and pressing a careful kiss to his mouth.