“Tell Jarren to follow the scent. It was all over my truck,” I grimaced as I tried to pry a large piece of glass out of my burned arm. I think it was melted in a bit because it didn’t want to move. Zee pulled on my good arm. I quickly met first Wyatt’s eyes and then Ryker’s, “You keep them safe. Nothing else matters. Get the girls home, guard the borders.” Both men gave me a stiff nod. Tegan looked up from her phone, and a moment of fear crossed her face as she grabbed Zee’s hand on my arm. Zee stopped pulling on me and turned back.
“Keep him safe, Zee,” Tegan choked out. Silly little sister, I could take care of myself, but before I could tell her, Zee yanked on my arm harder, forcing me to follow or risk more injury.
Chapter Seventeen
Zee
There was so much blood. The metallic smell seemed to fill the entire car and I fought my stomach. I wasn’t an overly squeamish person, but I’d also never seen someone rendered almost unrecognizable from a car bomb. Hopefully, he was right about healing fast. I glanced at him quickly to see if he looked any better. He sat rigid with his jaw clenched and his hands in fists. I really hoped Delilah was home.
“Thank you for helping me,” his voice was quiet, and it sounded like he forced the words past clenched teeth. I watched him flip down the visor and he gasped. Another quick glance showed me that he was staring at himself in the mirror. His gorgeous face was riddled with pieces of glass and other things I didn’t want to imagine. Blood was running freely in some places and drying in others. Any normal person would have passed out in shock or died. Perks of being a werewolf, I guess.
“I couldn’t leave you like that,” I gave a small shrug, like I helped blown up werewolves all the time. No big deal. I pulled into my spot before I continued, “Besides, I kind of figure the hospital would be shocked if they saw you walking in like that.” I gestured at the bloody burned mess that he was. He nodded his head and gave me just the smallest of smiles. It was a sad ghost of what I was used to, and I jumped from the car to rush around and help him get to his feet.
I was incredibly thankful for the cool night keeping my neighbors inside. The trip up the stairs was slow and every time he grunted in pain I wanted to stop. When we finally got to the door, I had to fight the locks one-handed in the dark. I was going to change that freaking light bulb myself. The door was yanked open, and we almost fell to the ground. Delilah let out a shriek and jumped back. Her eyes went wide and horrified as she looked over us both. Maybe this hadn’t been the best plan. I was about to figure out a plan b when she suddenly snapped into nurse mode.
“What happened?” she demanded as she helped me bring Alex into the kitchen. We lowered him on the edge of the table, and she walked away, I assumed to get her first aid kit. I didn’t know what to tell her. The explosion would-be all-over town soon if it wasn’t already. I raised my eyebrows at Alex, hoping he’d have some kind of plan for this part. How much should I tell Delilah? He closed his eyes and gave me a small nod. Everything then.
“There was an explosion,” I told her as she lugged the black duffle bag into the kitchen and sat it in an empty chair. “Alex’s truck blew up and he was near it when it happened.”
“How close?” her question was clipped as she sat all her medical supplies on the table. I had a moment of thankfulness that our parents had catered to Delilah’s love of medicine. She was her own little doctor’s office.
“I was maybe five feet away when the bomb went off,” Alex answered quietly. Delilah paused and glanced between us before she sat a pair of tweezers beside him with a pile of gauze. She picked up a small flashlight and brought it up to his eyes.
“A bowl please, Zee,” she ordered as she leaned in to watch his eyes, shining the light in first one and then the other. Her next words were directed at him, “A bomb? Were you unconscious at any point?” I sat the bowl next to her as Alex shook his head. She gave him a stern look, “Keep still please. Do any of your injuries seem to be worse than others?”
“My stomach is the worst,” he grimaced as she helped him lie down gently. What was left of his shirt was shredded, but she grabbed scissors and cut it away. We both sucked in a breath as we took in the sight of his mangled torso. There was metal and glass imbedded in so many places and his sides were bruising badly, but the worst wound was low on his abdomen. A large horizontal gash that looked deep was letting out a steady stream of blood.
“Why didn’t you go to the hospital?” Delilah whispered almost to herself. She pressed gauze to the largest gash and motioned for me to hold it there. Steeling my nerves, I did as she asked, pressing down and trying to ignore the warmth that seemed to seep out of his body. She wiped some of the blood away and ran her hands along his bruised ribs. His hiss of pain caused me to jump and my eyes darted away from all the gore to his face. His teeth were gritted as she pressed gently on his sides.
