Page 49 of Storm of Stars

“Talk to us,” I said, kneeling beside Bex. I swept her matted hair from her face. “What do we do?”

“Is she still bleeding?” He asked, reading off something.

I looked down at her leg, coated with dark red blood. I took some gauze and cleaned around the wound, watching it to see if blood pumped out of it anymore. “No.”

“That’s good,” Lark said, nodding and turning the page.

“So, what’s next?” Briar asked, voice tight.

Lark’s eyes darted across the page. “We need to give her blood. Fast. If she’s gonna survive this…”

Briar was already sprinting toward the supply room. “That door, there was something locked behind it.”

She gripped the large handle, and pulled the door open. A moment later, a hiss of cold air swept into the room, and Briar’s voice rang out. “Blood. There’s blood in here.”

“Does anyone know her blood type?” Lark asked, voice pitching.

I looked at him like he’d grown another head. “What the fuck does that mean? It’s blood, right?”

Lark stayed calm, luckily not reacting to my aggressive tone. “Okay. We need O Negative then, universal donor.”

Briar’s voice echoed from the cooler, “Give me a second. I’m looking.”

“Hurry!” I yelled, feeling the panic rise again.

Behind me, I heard Ezra groan in pain.

“Devrin. Talk to me, what’s going on?” I turned and saw Devrin cleaning the burns.

“Stable,” Devrin said, not looking up. “He’s breathing, and in a lot of pain. I’m cleaning him up now.”

I watched, stunned, as he cleaned Ezra’s burns with practiced hands, spreading salve and wrapping gauze like someone who’d done it a hundred times before.

Ezra would probably punch him later. Or hug him. Maybe both.

“Thorne,” Briar called. “I’ve got it. O Negative.”

I turned back to Bex. Her lips were starting to blue.

“What now, Lark?” I asked, trying not to scream. “Tell me what the hell to do.”

“You need to start a transfusion. Get a needle in her. There’s a diagram but…I’m not sure how to…”

“Come here,” I said, already rolling up my sleeve. “Just show me the picture.”

Lark moved beside me, pointing with trembling fingers. I scanned the diagram, matched tools from the tray, my hands shaking harder than his. Sweat burned into my eyes. I couldn’t afford to be clumsy.

Briar arrived beside us with the blood bag. “It’s cold.”

“She’s colder,” I said, taking the IV line from Lark. I held the needle over Bex’s arm and froze.

My hands wouldn’t move.

“She needs it, Thorne,” Briar whispered. Her hand settled on my shoulder, grounding me.

“I don’t want to hurt her.”

“If you don’t, she’s already gone,” Lark said softly.