Chapter 8
Evelyn’s POV
The door groaned under another massive impact, the wood splintering slightly near the top hinge. Outside, the guttural snarls of fighting wolves grew louder, punctuated by the sharp crack of small-arms fire.
"Pack it!" Killian commanded, his voice tight as he held the pressure. "Evelyn, do it now!"
I didn't answer. I didn't have the breath for it. Taking the strips of clean white linen Dominic held out, I began stuffing them directly into the weeping wound, layering the fabric tight against the ruptured vessel. My hands were soaked, the hot, metallic smell of blood filling my senses, but the clinical detachment of the trauma ward took over completely.
Layer. Press. Pack.
"Dominic, put your weight right here," I ordered, gesturing to the makeshift dressing. "Le
