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Heather felt more than a little dizzy. She knew she’d lost a lot of blood. From the look on Samia’s face, things were about to get a little dicey here. “Sam? What’s the damage?”

“I think you’ve nicked the profunda femoris, Heather. It’s caused a great deal of bleeding that isn’t stopping. We’re getting you to the ER. Get it fixed, fast. We’ll get it taken care of.” Samia had that look, though. The one that said she was worried. Heather bit back the urge to question. She cried out as her devil niece used something out of the tricked out first aid kit Samia and Cashlyn were fanatics about keeping close at hand to act as a tourniquet.

The first responders were there. Heather expected Samia to direct them to Gunnar, or even that bastard on the floor—who currently had Eden leaning over him telling him to just shut up and deal. That he’d gotten what he deserved.

Gunnar and Trey were both down, and bleeding badly.

But her niece waved the paramedics toward Heather first.

“Here,” Samia ordered, then listed a bunch of things Heather wasn’t going to think about. Including the amount of estimated blood loss. Yeah, Heather didn’t do blood very well. “Move fast, boys. Move fast. This one…can’t wait.”

Well, that wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“Thanks, Doc,” the paramedic said. “We’ll take it from here.”

Then Heather was being lifted onto a gurney. “What about Gunnar and McKellen? They’ve been bleeding a lot longer.”

“Quit talking, Heather. You’re going first. But don’t worry—Gunnar is right behind you.”

And that told Heather everything she needed to know. Priority of life, and all that. If she was going first—she was injured worse than Gunnar.

She was really trying not to panic here.

Heather really hated the sight of blood. Especially her own.