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“On three,” Tessa said. “One…two…three.”

She pulled the knife out in one swift motion.

For a split second, there was nothing. Just the slick sound of metal sliding free, the tense beat of silence before the inevitable.

Then—blood.

It gushed from the wound, dark and endless, pooling over her skin, soaking into the gauze, spilling between his fingers. Too much.

Pressure built in his chest, sharp and unbearable, like his ribs were trying to crush his heart. His stomach twisted violently as he pressed down, harder than he should have, trying to stop the impossible.

“Fuck.” His voice came out strangled, more breath than sound, because—Jesus Christ, that was too much blood.

His hands were slick with it, hot, sticky, a stain he couldn’t wash off. He’d seen this before. Too many times. On battlefields, in dark alleyways, in places where men didn’t always make it back alive.

But this wasn’t some faceless soldier.

This was Rowan.

And she was dying right in front of him.

A shuddering breath left his lungs. He forced himself to steady his grip, to keep the pressure even, but every instinct in his body was screaming, panic clawing at his ribs, at his throat.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to her—the woman who had outmaneuvered him three damn times.

Once by sexing him stupid, tying him to his own bed with Christmas lights, and disappearing with his dog before he even woke up.

Once by jabbing him in the neck with a sedative—one he still fucking felt—and slipping into the night, leaving him groggy, furious, and cursing her name.

Once by jumping out of a moving cab like a goddamn lunatic while he was still swearing at the driver to stop.

She always got away.

Always had a way out.

But now she wasn’t that warrior. She wasn’t untouchable. She was silent, still as death, and bleeding out in his arms.

And he couldn’t lose her.

He wouldn’t .

“Tessa—” His voice cracked, his grip tightening as he felt her breath hitch beneath his hands, too shallow, too weak.

“I know,” she said quickly, already moving. “Just keep that pressure steady. I’ve got her, but you need to hold her together.”

Hold her together.

Jesus.

He was holding her together, quite literally, and yet it still felt like she was slipping through his fingers.

Tessa’s hands were steady, working fast, her voice low and even. “Davey, look at me.”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t take his eyes off Rowan.

“Davey.” This time, her voice was sharper. “She’s still breathing. That means she’s still fighting. And if she’s fighting, we fight for her.”

His fingers flexed against the gauze, his jaw clenching.

Fighting.

That was Rowan. That had always been Rowan.

So, yeah.

He’d fight for her.

Minutes ticked by, the silence broken only by Rowan’s labored breathing and Tessa’s terse instructions.

She worked fast, methodical, efficient, moving with the kind of confidence that only came from experience. Surgical scissors glinted under the kitchen lights as she cut away more of Rowan’s ruined shirt, exposing bruised skin and raw edges of the wound.

She grabbed a syringe from her kit, popped the cap off with her teeth, and injected something near the wound. A local anesthetic, probably. Then came the antiseptic—a sharp, biting scent that cut through the thick metallic stink of blood.

Davey barely moved. He just kept pressing down, kept feeling the slow, sticky warmth seeping through the gauze.

Tessa didn’t flinch. She threaded a curved needle through Rowan’s torn skin, her hands steady, precise, closing the wound stitch by stitch.

“Come on, Ro,” Davey muttered under his breath, voice low and strained. “Don’t make this a one-sided fight.”

Tessa didn’t look up, didn’t comment. She just kept working, her brow furrowed in concentration, a slight crease between her eyes. The look she always got when she was too focused to let herself feel.

She reached for the gauze, layering clean bandages over the stitched wound and taping them down with quick, practiced movements. Then, she pressed two fingers to Rowan’s pulse, watching the slow, unsteady rise and fall of her chest.

A beat.

Then another.

Finally, Tessa stepped back, removing her bloody gloves and wiping sweat from her brow.

“I’ve got the bleeding under control,” she said. “But she’s lost a lot of blood. She needs fluids, antibiotics, and close monitoring.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving Rowan’s face. “What can I do for her?”

“For now, just keep her comfortable. Keep an eye on her vitals.” Tessa crouched and rifled through her kit, pulling out a saline bag and other stuff for an IV. When she straightened again and took in her patient, pale and quiet on the table, and Davey hovering, her expression softened. “What the hell is going on? Who did this to her?”

Frustration surged through him, thick and acidic. His fingers flexed involuntarily at his sides. He could still feel the warmth of her blood seeping through them. “I don’t know. She won’t tell me.”

Tessa’s eyes narrowed as she pulled open the sterile packaging around the IV line. “Won’t tell you or can’t tell you?”

“Both, probably,” It came out gritted, full of an exhaustion that had nothing to do with his body and everything to do with Rowan’s stubbornness, the walls she always kept between herself and everyone who gave a damn about her. “She’s so fucking stubborn.”

Tessa huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she fitted the IV tubing together. “Sounds like someone else I know. Actually…” She paused and tilted her head, considering. “Sounds like every one of my family members with a Y chromosome.”

Davey ignored the jab, his focus locking back onto Rowan. Her breathing was too shallow, her chest barely moving beneath the fresh bandages. Her eyelids fluttered, a soft moan escaping before she settled again.

“She’s in pain.”

The words came out hoarse, barely more than a breath. Like saying them made them more real.

Tessa paused, looking up from where she was priming the IV line, before sighing and tossing her used gloves into the trash. She didn’t argue. Didn’t tell him it was fine, that Rowan would be okay.

Instead, she reached for a fresh pair of gloves, stuffing them in her pocket, and grabbed the saline bag. “All right. Let’s move her somewhere more comfortable before I set up the IV.”

“My bed.” He scooped his arms under Rowan, but Tessa put a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“Are you sure you’re okay to carry her?”

He couldn’t stop the growl of annoyance. Ever since his injury, his family talked to him like he might shatter—little pauses in their voices, too-casual offers to ‘help’ that felt more like doubts. Like they were waiting for the moment he proved them right. “I’m not a fucking egg. I’m not going to break.”

“I know you think you’re Superman,” Tessa said gently but dropped her hand from his arm and backed up. “But I see you favoring that leg. Let’s get her settled, then I want to take a look at you.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, carefully lifting Rowan into his arms. He gritted his teeth against the twinge in his leg as he carried her upstairs to his room, with both Tessa and Luka following close behind.

Jesus. She felt so small and fragile, nothing like the fierce, dangerous woman he knew her to be. As he laid her gently on the bed, a strand of her dark hair fell across her face. Without thinking, he brushed it back, his fingers lingering on her cheek.

“Davey,” Tessa said softly from behind him.

He jerked his hand back as if burned. He cleared his throat, stepping aside to give Tessa room to work. “What’s next?”

Tessa gave him a knowing look but mercifully didn’t comment. “I’ll set up the IV and start her on antibiotics. Can you grab some extra pillows? We need to keep her elevated.”

He found a stack of pillows in the closet and positioned Rowan more comfortably, then stood helplessly back and let Tessa do her thing. She started the IV and checked Rowan’s vitals again.

“Her pulse is steadier, but she’s still not out of the woods. We need to watch for signs of infection or internal bleeding. I don’t think the blade hit anything vital, but I could be wrong. And if I am?—”

“How often are you wrong?”

Tessa’s lips curved into a faint smile that looked a hell of a lot like her brother’s when Cade actually bothered to smile. “Never, but there’s always a first time.”

“I trust your work, but I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Tessa double-checked the line of stitches, then covered them with a bandage and turned to face him, her expression stern. She pointed toward the door. “All right, downstairs. It’s your turn now. Let me see that leg.”

When he hesitated, she made a shooing motion. He reluctantly followed her into the living room, his eyes lingering on Rowan’s still form as he left the bedroom. Luka jumped up on the bed and nuzzled into Rowan’s side.

Good boy.

Downstairs, Tessa pointed to the couch. “Sit.”

Davey sank to the cushions with a grimace he couldn’t quite hide. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the ache in his leg was impossible to ignore.

“All right, tough guy, drop the pants. Let’s see the damage.”

He choked on his own spit. “No.”

Tessa stood in front of him, hands on her hips, eyebrow raised. “What’s wrong? You going commando?”

When he didn’t answer, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You think I haven’t seen a dick before?”

Davey made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and shot her a horrified look. He did not want to think about his baby cousin seeing a man’s dick. Ever. “Christ, Tessa.”

She snorted. “You think my medical training came with a ‘no cocks allowed’ policy? Believe me, yours is nothing special. Drop ‘em, Davey.”

Muttering a string of curses under his breath, he unbuckled his belt, grateful that—for once—he’d actually put on underwear this morning. He usually went without, and if he’d been commando right now, he would’ve had to move out of the country just to avoid ever speaking to Tessa again.

Still, a fresh wave of discomfort hit as he shoved his jeans down, exposing the scarred flesh and metal of his reconstructed thigh. He wasn’t self-conscious about it—he’d made his peace with the damage a long time ago—but having his cousin poke at his leg like he was some lab experiment wasn’t exactly on his bucket list.

Tessa’s hands were gentle but firm as she probed the area, her brow furrowed in concentration. “How bad is the pain, scale of one to ten?”

“Four.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So, seven then. You always underreport.”

“It’s fine, Tess. I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not the point, and you know it.” She sighed, sitting back on her heels. “It’s inflamed. Have you been overdoing it again?”

“Define ‘overdoing it.’”

She shot him a withering look. “You know exactly what I mean. Running around the city, getting into fights, carrying wounded women up flights of stairs...”

“It’s fine,” he insisted again, even as a twinge of pain shot through his leg. “I can handle it.”

Tessa’s expression softened. “I know you can handle it, dumbass. That’s not the problem. The problem is that you shouldn’t have to.”

He looked away, his jaw locking. He wasn’t in the mood for this conversation.

Tessa let out a slow breath. “You need to ice it regularly—not just when it starts hurting, but before. Twenty minutes, twice a day. You still doing the stretches Dr. Patel gave you?”

“Sometimes.”

Tessa rolled her eyes. “Which means no.” She pointed at him. “Start doing them. Every morning, every night. And take the damn anti-inflammatories before it gets this bad, not after.”

He grumbled under his breath, but she ignored it, already rummaging in her bag. “I’ll wrap it for you now, but if it’s still this bad tomorrow, you’re taking a rest day.”

Davey scoffed. “I don’t have time for a rest day.”

“Yes, you do,” she shot back, yanking out a compression wrap. “You’ll be sitting here with Rowan anyway. She’ll be out of it for a while, so take it easy, or I’ll tell Aunt Libby you’re being reckless with your health.”

His scowl deepened. “You wouldn’t.”

She smirked. “Try me.”

Davey muttered another curse but let her work, even as irritation burned in his chest. It wasn’t her fault. She was right, and they both knew it.

Tessa finished wrapping his leg, then sat back, studying him. “You’re not invincible, Davey.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

Images of the explosion that killed several of his men and ripped his leg to shreds flashed across his mind, but he shoved them away, locking them back inside that vault where they belonged. He tugged his pants back up. “Well fucking aware.”

Tessa’s eyes held something softer now—concern, understanding, something too close to pity for his liking. “I know you are. But you need to take care of yourself too—not just everyone else.”

He nodded, knowing it was easier to agree than argue. “Thanks for coming. I owe you one.”

“You owe me several,” she corrected with a wry smile.

Unable to stop himself, he looked toward the stairs. The urge to get back to Rowan was overpowering. He needed to make sure she was still breathing.

Tessa followed his gaze. “She’ll be okay.”

He nodded, his jaw locked tight. “She has to be.”

His cousin studied him for a moment with her dark, all-too-knowing eyes. “You care about her, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. His silence spoke volumes.

“Yeah, I thought so.” Tessa let out a quiet breath as if she’d just confirmed a suspicion, then sat beside him and reached for his hand. “You okay?”

He scowled. “You just looked at my leg. I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t talking about your leg.” She squeezed his hand. “Your jaw’s clenched so tight it looks like it might snap, and you’ve been walking around with a storm cloud over your head since Christmas. Is it Cade? I heard you two got into it again at the office.”

He sighed and pulled his hand from hers, scrubbing it over his face. His eyelids felt coated in sandpaper. “He’s been a pain in my ass since I took over.”

Tessa’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Cade’s... complicated.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” He glanced at her. “You’re his sister. You’ve got to see it, too. The guy’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of the Hudson.”

She didn’t deny it. “I don’t think it’s just about the company, Davey. You know how he is. He keeps everything bottled up until the pressure builds and builds, and then he explodes. He was already under so much pressure trying to prove himself to Dad and the uncles, and then he found out he was going to be a dad. Then Nova was born, and he lost Emma. And then Brennan—” She paused, swallowing hard. “He doesn’t talk about it, but I think losing Brennan was the last straw. It broke something in him that was already cracking, and now all that pressure is releasing, and we’re getting that explosion.”

Davey leaned back, feeling like shit all over again for his comment about Brennan earlier. Brennan’s death had fractured their family. Where they’d once been a tight-knit unit, now cracks and fissures ran through all of their relationships.

And the uncles had trusted him to somehow heal the wounds. It should’ve been Elliot, with his mind for strategy, or Bridger, with his cool head and talent for diplomacy, or even Tessa. She was the healer in the family.

But no, they handed the reins to him, expecting him to hold the family together when he could barely do it for himself.

“I get that,” he said finally. “Cade’s been through hell. But it doesn’t give him the right to take it out on me. I didn’t ask for this job. I didn’t want it, but you try telling the uncles no when they corner you with the paperwork all ready to go.”

He hadn’t even had a chance to breathe before the decision was made. No discussion, no time to think. Just signed, sealed, and shoved onto his shoulders like a goddamn boulder.

Tessa’s eyes softened. “I know. And I think, deep down, Cade knows, too. But he’s always felt like he had to prove himself—especially after Brennan. And now, seeing you in the position he thought he was working toward…” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “It’s a reminder of all the ways he feels like he’s failed.”

Davey exhaled sharply. “I’m not his enemy, Tess.”

“I know you’re not,” she said quietly. “But Cade doesn’t see it that way right now. He has a lot of anger, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.”

“Well, I’m not his damn punching bag.” The words lacked the heat he’d been going for. He was just… fucking tired. Tired of the fights, tired of the tension, tired of walking into a room and seeing Cade’s barely concealed resentment burning behind his eyes. Like Davey had stolen something from him.

“I’m not saying you should be,” she replied gently. “But maybe... just try talking to him. Not about work, not about WSW.” She paused. “Have you ever even met his daughter?”

The question made him blink. Had he?

“I saw her briefly at Christmas.” It had been a blur of a night—booze, tension, their uncles watching every move like he and Cade might come to blows over the mashed potatoes. But he remembered Nova. The baby had been cute, with chubby little cheeks and spiky black hair tied up in pigtails.

And Cade…

Cade had been different with her. He wasn’t the cold, calculating bastard everyone else knew him as. He was softer, gentler—like the edges of him had been sanded down just enough to let some light in.

“He’s a different guy around her. I’ll give him that.” Davey sighed. “I guess I haven’t really made an effort there. It’s just... every time I see Cade, he’s got this look in his eye like he’s contemplating my murder.”

Tessa’s lips quirked into a small, sad smile. “That’s just his resting face these days. But I think if you made the effort, he might surprise you. He needs to hear you’re on his side, even if he’s not ready to admit it yet.”

Davey let the words settle, but doubt twisted in his gut. How was he supposed to be on Cade’s side when Cade wasn’t on his? Every time they spoke, it felt like another battle. Like Cade was waiting for him to fail so he could say, ‘I told you so.’

“I don’t know. I’m not sure he even wants to fix things.”

“Maybe not right now,” she admitted. “But he’s not a lost cause, Davey. He’s just... hurting. You might be the only person who can get through to him. You two used to be so close, and I hate seeing you at each other’s throats like this. Just talk to him. Please?”

Davey swallowed against the knot forming in his throat. Once, Cade had been his best friend. Back before everything had gone to hell.

But things weren’t like that anymore. They hadn’t been for a long time.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I’ll think about it.”

Tessa offered him a small, reassuring smile. “That’s all I’m asking.” She stood, slinging her med kit higher on her shoulder, and nodded toward the bedroom on the second floor. “Take care of her, okay? And yourself. I’ll check back in tomorrow, but call me if you need anything before then.”

Davey nodded. “Thanks, Tess.”

She hesitated in the doorway, her dark eyes lingering on him. “Don’t wait too long to talk to Cade, Davey. You both deserve better than this.”

With that, she left.

He leaned back in his chair, her parting words echoing in his mind. And whether he liked it or not, he was going to have to find a way to fix this thing with Cade—for the sake of the family and for WSW.