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“You’ll sort it out now!” I grab the end of my top and start ripping it into a bandage.

“For fuck’s sake!” Cade hits the brakes, pulls of the road, and glares. “Fine! Get the first aid kit under the backseat.”

I roll my eyes. “So you had bandages, but you’d rather bleed out than ask me for help.”

I reach under the seat until my fingers find a heavy-duty case. By the time I pull it out, Cade has peeled off his shirt. The copper smell of blood fills the truck as I suck in a shocked breath.

His right side, a canvas of muscle and ink, is now marred by a deep, angry gash pouring with blood. His shoulder is also torn, but the bleeding from there is less.

More scars to add to his collection—scars he wouldn’t have if I’d just been honest.

“What, admiring the bullet work?” His voice is rough with pain and something darker.

I swallow, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. “You’re going to need a hospital.”

He barks out a laugh. “What I need is to get us out before your fan club sends backup. Just slap on the QuikClot and let’s move.”

“The what?”

“In the box.”

I pull out an olive-drab package labeled ‘QuikClot Combat Gauze’ with military insignias. The antiseptic smell hits as I tear it open.

“This isn’t normal gauze,” I mutter, unrolling the textured fabric. “Are you sure? That gash will need stitches.”

He grunts, pain tightening his eyes. “Trust me. Just apply pressure.”

I place the gauze over his wound, biting my lip.

“Harder,” he instructs through gritted teeth.

I fight the tears, knowing I’m hurting him, and press down. The white gauze darken. “How long?”

“Two minutes. Then wrap it tight.”

Thebleeding stops so fast it’s startling. “This is incredible,” I whisper, fingers trembling as I secure the bandage. “What about your arm?”

“It’s just a scratch. Leave it.”

“And the pain? Don’t you want something for it?”

Cade goes still, his eyes locking onto mine, dark and intense. His anger and my guilt melt away, leaving the awareness that always crackles between us.

“The pain?” Cade rumbles. “Sure. I’ll need something to ease the pain, princess. A lot of it.”

My body responds instantly to his sensual command, arousal flooding me so fast my cheeks flame crimson. The blush spreads down my neck as I look away, but not before catching his satisfied smirk.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I meant the truth. It’s time you started being honest with me.”

“I already told you about the email.”

His finger tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Not that.”

He’s waiting for something deeper—the answer to the question he’s been asking all along.

Why does my family keep trying to sell me off? Why shuffle me around like a commodity when they could marry me into the Bratva or another power player? Why am I a pawn in a game that makes no sense?

The real answer rises in my throat:Maman.