she hadn’t experienced the gut-wrenching pain she sensed would come with his death. His presence within her was still strong despite their separation—by distance and species—and his energy centered her and gave her renewed focus.
Opening her eyes, she gave the bookcase another shove. Three more inches. Then she pushed again, straining and struggling until she managed to move it directly in front of the broken window. Without allowing herself time to breathe, she hastily refilled the shelves to provide extra weight to the obstacle she’d created. She doubted it would keep out a determined wolf all night, but at least she would hear it coming.
Living room secured, Katie snatched up the shotgun and ran back to the kitchen. Her heart stuttered at the sight of Shilah lying with his eyes closed, but he opened them as soon as she knelt by his side. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered to him. His tail wagged weakly at the sound of her voice. His obvious happiness at her mere presence tugged at her guilty conscience. “I’m so sorry, boy. So sorry.”
Shilah nuzzled her hand with his nose, snapping her back into focus. She knew what to do. She had to clean his wounds, just as Rafe had cleaned hers the night before. As long as she did everything that Rafe had done—short of healing Shilah with her hands, of course—there was a chance that he would survive. She just needed to keep Shilah alive until Rafe returned in the morning. Then Rafe could fix him.
That’s what she had to tell herself. Rafe could fix him.
The first thing she had to do was move Shilah to the bathroom. Not only would it be difficult to bring first-aid supplies to him, but they were too exposed in the kitchen. Here they could be rushed from all sides. The bathroom was a somewhat fortified position. At the very least, she could shut the door and hopefully have time to pick up her weapon before anyone broke through.
Unfortunately, moving Shilah to the bathroom required picking him up. There was no way to do so without hurting him, she knew, but her bigger concern was the possibility that she could make things worse. Some of the lacerations on his body were deep. She was scared to death that she would lift Shilah up and find herself fighting to keep his vital organs inside his body. But what other choice did she have?
“No choice,” Katie murmured. She also had no other option but to leave the shotgun behind as she carried Shilah to the bathroom. Using both hands, she very carefully eased her hands beneath him and attempted to lift his limp body to her chest. He was a big dog—sixty-five pounds at least—so she only managed to raise him a few inches off the floor. He left behind a small pool of blood, but mercifully, his only reaction to being moved was to whimper in the back of his throat. “Sorry, boy.” She glanced around, looking for options, then set him on the runner below the sink. It would be far easier to drag him than carry him.
She moved him to the bathroom as quickly as she dared, afraid to waste any more time before addressing his wounds. She had no idea how much blood a dog his size could lose before needing more, but she wagered he was already pushing the limit. She was pretty certain that blood loss and the potential for internal injuries were her biggest concerns. There wasn’t a lot she could do to address internal injuries, but she could sure as hell stop his bleeding.
Luckily, she’d left the bathroom door open earlier and was able to drag him right in. His front paws twitched after she stepped away, as though he wanted to jump up and follow her. She held out her hand to stop him. “Stay.”
He lay his head on the floor and stared at her with plaintive eyes. Heart breaking, Katie backed out of the bathroom and ran down the hallway toward the kitchen. Her singular focus was on getting the shotgun so she could examine Shilah more fully. So far she hadn’t observed any obviously fatal wounds. It was almost unbelievable that Shilah was alive at all, and that he’d been able to hold his own against a larger and more powerful opponent. What a tough dog.
As she approached the kitchen table, the hair-raising sensation of being watched swept over her. She slowed her pace and looked