Kylie’s pov
I knew the second he passed out. I wasn’t sure if it was from the pressure I was putting on his ribs—still so fragile after everything—or if it was the blood loss. God, I hoped it was just the former. Broken ribs could kill if they punctured something, but as long as nothing vital had been hit, he’d survive. A gunshot wound though? That would definitely take him.
I glanced up. A car was pulling up the street, the headlights slicing through the dark. I could feel my pulse quicken as it stopped, the doors creaking open. This was it. No more running, no more hiding. I had five or six shots left in my gun, but there was no way I could get to it without taking my hands off Roberto's wound. The fabric of my sweatshirt was already soaked with his blood. I couldn’t afford to let go.
