Layla's POV
The darkness in front of me faded.
There was no blindfold.
Light flooded my eyes too fast, too bright, and then everything was fuzzy. Shapes. Movement; but then him.
Ezra.
He was kneeling right in front of me, eyes locked on mine like I was the only thing that mattered.
Before I could say a word, he reached out and pulled me into his arms.
Tight. Careful. Like I might break.
"Are you hurt?" he whispered.
His voice was low, urgent, laced with fear he was trying hard to hide.
But I wasn't thinking about myself.
I didn't answer his question.
My eyes traveled over him- and then I saw it.
Blood.
So much blood.
His shirt was soaked all the way through. Dark red spread down the right sleeve of his shirt and clung to his skin.
I gasped.
