Vanessa
Michael’s body crashes down on me, just before his head slams into a root. The impact rings in my ear, then nothing. I hear Michael’s men yelling a few meters away, but he doesn’t move. I can’t act with his weight suffocating me, but I reach toward his head. A thick stream of blood soaks his jet-black hair and spreads over my fingers.
After a deep breath, I try to take his pulse. I think I feel a beat, but I also feel my own frantic pulse pounding in my ears. That’s when I notice his half-open eyes. He’s fighting, his eyelids look like they weigh a ton. The effort it takes for him to roll off me almost makes him pass out. A moan escapes him when he brushes against his wound.
"Get cover!" Antony shouts.
As I sit up, I see him take shelter behind the truck. More than a dozen hood
