Dominico’s POV
Fuck. f**k. f**k.
My mind reels, and the words echo endlessly as I watch Alaric, pale and unmoving, the blood pouring from his chest in relentless waves. My hands shake as I press down, trying to stem the bleeding. It won’t stop. His pulse flutters weakly under my fingers, his skin cold. Each second that passes tightens the vise around my chest, suffocating, inescapable.
“Why isn’t he healing? Why?” I demand, my voice breaking as I look up at Max. Max’s jaw is clenched, his hands already blood-streaked from trying to keep Alaric’s wounds closed, but he can’t hide the panic seeping through his composed mask.
“He should be healing faster than this. I don’t understand.” His words are a whisper, and I see his own hands trembling as he grabs another strip of gauze, pressing i
