Ronan's bike skidded to a stop in the gravel hard enough to throw dust into the headlights, and he was off it before the engine had even finished dying, boots hitting the ground at a dead run toward where I still sat against the guardrail with Silas's men peeling away into the dark behind him, unhurried, entirely unbothered by his arrival.
You're bleeding, he said, dropping to his knees in front of me, hands hovering like he did not know where it was safe to touch, and I noted distantly that it was the second time tonight someone had said that exact sentence to me, though only one of them had meant it.
I'm fine, I said, which was not true, but felt easier to say than admitting how badly my hands were shaking.
He did not argue. He simply gathered me up off the ground with a care that und
