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Thomas hissed when she pulled the gauze away again. The wound wasn’t as bad as I’d feared—but that didn’t mean much. The bleeding had slowed, but it was still oozing, and the tissue around the hole was raw and angry.
“Through and through,” Sparrow confirmed, her voice low but calm. “Didn’t shatter the clavicle. He got lucky.”
I gave her a look.
She arched a brow. “Relatively.”
Thomas looked between us like he was waiting for one of us to say, “Just kidding.” Instead, I pressed my free hand to his good shoulder and whispered, “Brace yourself, okay?”
Sparrow nodded to me. “Now.”
I slid the needle into his thigh, pushing the plunger slow and even. Thomas didn’t flinch, but I felt the tight curl of muscle beneath my palm. I didn’t look at his face. God, I couldn’t.
“Let’s wrap it,” Sparrow said.
I held gauze while she cut and bandaged, her fingers quick and sure. The whole kit smelled like rubbing alcohol and rust. My knees were killing me, but I didn’t move. I would’ve stayed there all night if it meant feeling the faint thrum of heat in his body, knowing he was still there.
Still mine.
When Sparrow sat back on her heels and let out a breath, I felt my own lungs move for the first time in forever.
“You’ll live,” she said, her voice all business. “The bullet passed clean through the meat. It missed the bone. You got lucky.”
Thomas snorted. “That’s what they always say before a limb falls off.”
“If it falls off, I’ll stuff it and mount it on a plaque,” Egret chimed in. “Next to Will’s dignity, which was, apparently, also shot through.”
I stopped pacing, spun, and squared with the far bigger man. “Seriously?”
“What?” Egret raised both eyebrows. “You’ve been pacing like a Victorian father outside a birthing room. It’s sweet, adorable, even.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but—
“He cares,” Eszter said from the far corner of the room.
We all turned—except for Thomas. He craned his neck to peer past Sparrow.
She stood just beyond Egret, a tiny shadow none of us had noticed, arms crossed, chin lifted just enough to be defiant.
“Will’s afraid for Thomas,” she added. “So maybe don’t joke.”
Egret blinked. Once. Twice.
She’d caught our real names. When the hell had that happened? Lapses like that cost spies their lives and could be disastrous for anyone near enough to become collateral damage. We’d have to school the girl on using the right names—but for the moment, that could wait.
Screw tradecraft.
Everythingcould wait.
“You know.” Egret smirked at the girl. “For someone who barely talks, you’ve sure got perfect timing.”
Eszter smiled, and the whole room lightened. Even Sparrow chuckled as she pulled the needle through Thomas’s skin. She looked sideways at Eszter and winked. “Good girl.”
Thomas peered up at me, his lips curling, faint but real. “She’s gotyourfire.”
I didn’t answer.
I couldn’t.