Diego groaned in pain, lying half-naked on Zoe’s couch, blood still slowly seeping through the white bandage she had just tied around his shoulder. His shirt had already been tossed aside, soaked in blood. The living room smelled like blood, alcohol, and antiseptic. A few used cotton pads were scattered across the table, alongside a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol.
Zoe, standing over him with her sleeves rolled up, had just peeled off the bloody gloves from her hands. She tossed them into a small bin nearby and wiped her forehead with the back of her arm.
“Thank you, Zoe,” Diego said, his voice weak but audible enough for her to hear him. “I needed you tonight, I mean it.”
She rolled her eyes and dropped into the armchair beside him, letting out a long, tired sigh.
“Who would’ve t
