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He hit the tiled floor with a growl, arms straining to reach Langford, to land at least one punishing blow. The primal fury took control, and he roared, “Get the hell off me!”
Bondo’s deep voice cut through, breath ragged. “Dagger! You can’t?—”
Easy tightened his grip on Dagger’s wrists. “You’re not thinking. Stop!”
But reason was as distant as the flickering overhead lights. All he could see was Quinn, hurt, hospitalized, maybe fighting for her life. A fractured thought seared his mind.She might not make it. She might die, just like?—
He bucked under them, muscles tensing in a desperate attempt to break free. He wanted to kill someone, to tear apart anything that threatened her.
“Kade.”
Her voice was softer than he’d ever heard it, trembling on the edge of exhaustion and pain. It pierced through the roaring in his head like a beacon.
He froze, breath caught in his throat. Easy and Bondo felt the change and loosened their hold.
Slowly, Dagger turned his head to see Quinn standing nearby, her arm bandaged. His eyes locked on the crimson stain blooming beneath the white bandage. For a moment, all he saw was red, rage, terror, regret, blurring together in a haze of helpless fury.
She looked too pale, her eyes sunken with exhaustion. But she was alive.
He wrenched himself free from his teammates, stumbling up to his knees, feeling like the floor was shifting under him. She extended her good arm, pushing softly past Bondo and Easy. A trembling hand grazed Dagger’s cheek.
“I’m all right,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
The world slammed back into full color. His eyes stung. He swallowed hard, overcome with relief, he wrapped both arms around her waist and pressed the side of his face to her belly, his chest heaving at the feel of her warm skin. She was here.
Her hand went over his head so gently, his throat contracted. The sob tore him to shreds. Without speaking, he rose to his feet, arms wrapping around her gently, unsure if he’d hurt her if he held too tight. But she clung to him, her fingers curling in his shirt, breathing him in as if that alone grounded her.
Dagger shut his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers, letting out a shaky exhale. Relief hit him like a tidal wave, so overwhelming his knees threatened to buckle. His heartpounded from adrenaline, but beneath that wild thrum was an ache of gratitude and love and fear, all tangled into one raw, consuming emotion.
He tightened his hold, burying his face in her curls, inhaling the faint scent of antiseptic mingling with something purely Quinn. So many times he had imagined being able to hold her like this again without anger, without distance. But not like this, not with her arm bandaged and her eyes clouded with pain.
A part of him wanted to rage at the universe, to scream that it wasn’t fair. Another part wanted to drop to his knees and just weep that she was still alive, still with him. No amount of tough exterior could shut down that sheer wave of relief.
Her hand slid up, gently cupping his jaw, stroking the bristle of his beard. “I’m okay,” she repeated, more certain this time, voice still shaky but with an attempt at reassuring him. “It was just a graze.”
He swallowed again, nodding. His voice, when he found it, was hoarse. “Hell, Quinn… I?—”
She shook her head, cutting him off, her own eyes glimmering with tears she refused to let fall. “I know,” she murmured. “I know.”
In that moment, the hospital corridor stilled around them. No one moved. Tex, Bondo, Easy, even Langford, all stood by, quietly witnessing the raw intensity of two people who had almost lost everything in a single gunshot.
Dagger wanted to say a thousand things. He was sorry, he was furious, he was terrified but his throat was too tight. Instead, he just held on, his arms wrapping protectively around Quinn’s waist, letting the thunder of his heart calm one beat at a time, anchored by the feel of her body against his.
She was safe.
They might not have a perfect future mapped out, but she was here. In that moment, it was all that mattered.
10
Flash strodedown the stark hallway of the hospital, scanning for any sign of Lechuza, but all he got from the busy nurse’s station was a vague shrug and a nod toward the recovery ward. When he pressed for more details,Where is she? Is she okay?the harried nurse only sighed and offered little beyond a curt, “I’m not sure. Let me check.” Then she disappeared. The hospital was busy as hell, and he shifted. When a new nurse showed up, he gave up, his frustration mounting, and asked for Ndhlovu’s room number instead. It was the best lead he had. A few moments later, he found the right door and slipped inside.
“O-voo,” Flash said with a grin. The man was propped up against lumpy pillows, bandaged around the side of his head, his skin dark against the stark white. He looked up as Flash entered, a flicker of surprise crossing his face at Lechuza's nickname.
“So, you’ve picked up her habit,” Ndhlovu said, voice a touch hoarse. “You know it’s because she has a hard time pronouncing my name.” He chuckled affectionately.
Flash offered a quick grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The nurse told me I might find you in here. Figured I’d drop by and see how you’re holding up.”
“The concussion from the bullet graze is severe enough they’re sending me back to the states to recover.” Ndhlovu gestured to his head. “Could’ve been worse.” There was a weary humor in his eyes as he added, “As for Lechuza, she’s already headed back to the fight.”