The second I am sure Dean’s secure; I dash off to the Hummer. Logan shifts and follows us. With his snout, he keeps Dean on my back until we reach the vehicle. Logan shifts back and I kneel. He picks Dean from my back and loads him on the backseat as I shift back.
“I’ll drive,” Logan shouts as he runs to the front. “You know more about securing wounds than me.”
I don’t disagree and climb in, inspecting Dean’s wound as Logan speeds off.
“The bullet’s still in there, I can't find an exit wound,” I put pressure on the wound, but he is bleeding profusely.
“This is going to hurt, buddy,” I warn Dean as I stick two of my fingers in the wound. Dean howls like a wounded animal.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I mumble as I pinch the vein closed.
“There, you’re going to be fine, just stay awake,” I c
