BLAINE
Her head rested against my shoulder, breath shallow and uneven. Every bump in the road sent a pulse of tension through me. I hadn’t taken my eyes off her since we left the factory.
Gabe had done what he could. He’d sealed the wound, slowed the bleeding — but not enough to calm the storm growing in my chest.
“The cut goes pretty deep,” he’d said. “Pretty sure I saw rust on her clothes, where they got torn. We need a doctor — fast.”
That was over twenty minutes ago.
She still hadn’t woken up.
Her fingers twitched occasionally, reacting to pain even in sleep. And still, she kept her hand pressed against her side, like her body knew what it needed to do — like it was trying to help me save her.
Apart from the occasional twitch, she hadn’t moved since she passed out. That scared m
