The Drift - Jenika Snow Page 0,5
his way wouldn’t be pleasurable, I assumed.
“Get. Out. Of. The. Car,” he said through clenched teeth. “I want to be with my brother and make sure he lives.” His voice was low and dangerous, and something in my heart tugged at the thought of the man in there not surviving.
I didn’t know who he was, what his background was, or if he was even an all-around evil dude, but I realized I didn’t want to see him die either. And that last part confused the hell out of me.
I moved toward him and climbed out. He took my wrist, and I was surprised at how gentle his hold was. He led me to the front door, and I was in a daze as we entered. I couldn’t even describe the house for how unfocused my eyes had become. I couldn’t describe the scents or the sounds for how hard my pulse beat in my ears, drowning everything else out.
I was vaguely aware we headed down a long hallway before I was ushered into a room with so much commotion going on it was a whirlwind of cursing, shouting of orders, and blood... so much blood I swore I saw it in the air.
The driver let go of me and rushed forward. He didn’t bother hiding his fear and worry now. I could see it clear and cut sharply on his face. I moved back until the wall stopped my retreat, placed my hands flat on the cold wall behind me, and prayed for stability. I prayed no one saw me, that I’d become as invisible as a speck of dust when the lights were out.
Between the bodies moving around frantically, orders for supplies, for an IV, for scissors and the likes, I caught glimpses of the man wounded and unconscious. He was on a bed, his shirt ripped open, the bullet wound a startling display of gore. His chest was coated in the red fluid, some parts already dried, and where the wound itself was, the deep red fluid seeped out whenever the gauze was removed and replaced with new ones.
I stared at his face, almost peaceful in his unconscious state. His skin was so damn pale that I felt this thick knot become lodged in my throat.
I could hear everyone talking, but it sounded like I was underwater. I could only focus on his face.
I didn’t know how much time passed. It could have been seconds, definitely minutes, hell, maybe even hours had gone by. I stood still in my same spot, away from everyone, out of the way, too scared to move.
Nobody glanced my way, clearly having forgotten me. I should’ve snuck out, ran, left out the door. No one would probably notice. But for some inexplicable reason, I couldn’t move, my eyes wide as I stared at the woman trying to save him.
Blood. There was so much blood. God.
I felt the tension of the room so thickly it wrapped around my throat, squeezing the air from me.
And then it was as if something was loosened, the noose not as tight around everyone’s necks. The three men stepped away, murmuring softly to each other, their voices deep and, although hushed, had a hard edge to them.
The one named Cullen leaned down and kissed the woman on top of the head who’d been working on the wounded man. He ran his hand up and down her back, said something softly to her, and I watched as she nodded, tipping her head back to look at him, the strain and exhaustion very clear on her face.
There was another woman in the room, one who stayed close to the man named Dom. These were their women, I assumed.
“Is he going to live?” the driver asked, although his face was hard and devoid of emotion. The stoic expression on his face was startling, but his voice betrayed how he felt. He was worried. Everyone in the damn room was worried.
The woman who’d been working on the wounded man exhaled and shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, Frankie. I got the wound to stop bleeding, and he’s stable right now by some miracle, but I just don’t know.” The room was silent again. “Right now, he’s out of immediate danger, but the next couple hours will be pretty iffy.” The woman looked over at Frankie. “If you’re not a praying man, now might be the time to start.”
Chapter Five
Wilder
I tasted copper, like I had a mouthful of pennies. It coated my tongue,