Page 68

Good god, she’s the one trapped, bleeding, and with no way to escape yet she gives me attitude.

I rip the black shirt off, exposing her entire arm. Looking from one side to the other, I see the bullet made a clean escape.

“Call the doctor already.”

“That’s a favor you’re not getting,” I say cooly.

When you’re in the life I am, it’s imperative to know basics like tending to your wounds. Learning first aid is a means to an end. She’ll be just fine.

Dragging over the other chair, I sit down in front of her. The nearness unbalances me. For a moment, I forget everything. But my head clears, and I remember she’s the enemy.

Disinfecting the wound, I wipe until the area is clean, yet some blood still oozes.

She’s stiff next to me, most surely biting her tongue not to say anything that could affect her skin in the end.

“This will hurt,” I warn her.

“You want it to hurt,” she sighs.

That broken sound rattles me to my core. I can barely hold on to my composure and it takes all my will to stay seated. I apply some numbing spray, then I sew the small wound up, taking my sweet time.

She breaks out in a sweat. Her breaths come in shallow pants, but she hasn’t screamed once. Occasionally, she looks at my profile while I am focused on making a better suture than fucking surgeons.

“Why are you mad?” she asks me, her voice softer, or maybe it’s from all the pain.

“I am not mad,” I snap.

“That sounded defensive.”

I push the needle harder in her skin. That shuts her up, thankfully, but not for long.

She appraises my work, her attention so potent I feel it in my damn marrow.

“You’re doing quite a good job, but it will still leave a scar.”

“A faint one.”

“Yeah, can’t stand to look and not find me flawless?” Her voice breaks at the end, making me believe it’s an actual fear and not a jab.

“You’re riddled with flaws.”

Her eyes narrow on me, trying to lock gazes with me. I don’t give her that satisfaction.

“You didn’t seem to care,” she whispers.

I wave a dismissive hand through the air, wanting to sever this damn connection from the fucking roots. “That was then. Now I don’t care at all. Physical flaws matter the least.”

“Right, I forgot I am talking to Mister Morality. What is your business again?”

It takes everything in me not to crack a smile at her sass. Fuck, she’s ballsy.

“If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have gone through all the work of getting me here.”

“You’re just a pawn in a very elaborate plan. I will sacrifice you immediately when all pieces are in check,” I say low, forcing my voice to sound detached.

She purses her lips, finally quiet, but not for long.

“I am used to being that,” she murmurs, looking to the side.