Page 21 of Donovan

Relief crashed into me, so sharp and overwhelming I nearly sank to the ground myself.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I’m here.”

His brow furrowed, as if trying to piece together if this was real or some hallucination.

His lips parted slightly, but no more words came. His body went limp against me again.

I clenched my jaw.

“Don’t you dare,” I muttered, hoisting him up into my arms.

He groaned weakly, his fingers twitching against my jacket, but he didn’t fight me.

Good. That meant he was still holding on.

I forced my legs to move, ignoring the burn in my muscles as I carried him out of the barn.

The icy wind slammed into us the second we stepped outside, cutting through my jacket like a blade. I barely felt it.

All that mattered was getting Declan out of here. Somehow, some way, I was going to save him. I wasn’t letting him die.

CHAPTER FIVE

DECLAN

Pain wasthe first thing I felt. A dull, persistent ache thrumming through my limbs, sinking deep into my bones.

It wasn't sharp like before. Not the searing agony of the bite, not the slow, suffocating pull of blood loss, but something else.

Something wrong. I opened my eyes.

The ceiling above me was unfamiliar. Wooden beams, rough and aged, stretched overhead, lit by the soft glow of a lamp.

I shifted slightly, the fabric beneath me smooth. Soft sheets, blankets. A bed. I wasn’t in the barn anymore.

The last thing I remembered was cold, the smell of death and then… Donovan. His voice had been the last thing I heard before everything went black.

I pushed myself upright too fast, my body protesting the sudden movement.

A blur of pain shot through my skull, and for a moment, the world tilted, nausea rolling through me like a storm.

“Declan.”

That voice.

I turned my head sharply. The dizziness surged again, but I ignored it because he was here.

Donovan stood near the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His jacket was gone, sleeves rolled up, forearms tense.

His face was carefully neutral, but I knew him too well. That mask didn’t fool me. His shoulders were tight, his jaw clenched. He was worried about me.

I should’ve felt something about that. Relief, anger, maybe even gratitude, but all I felt was rage.

“What did you do?” My voice came out hoarse, rough from disuse.

Donovan didn’t flinch. “Saved your life.”

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. It sounded wrong.