Page 149 of Dirty Hit
“Little Sin,” I say, stepping into the dark. “You better not be hiding to jump me, I swear to—”
He’s on the couch, curled on his side, hoodie half pushed up, hair a mess on the throw pillow, one arm tucked under his head like he fell asleep. My whole body goes loose with relief, because he looks peaceful. He looks like he finally let himself rest.
I breathe out hard and step closer, already forming the words in my head, ready to act annoyed but affectionate at the same time.
“Jesus fuck,” I exhale, shoulders sagging. “You scared the shit out of me, Little Sin.”
He still doesn’t move. I frown and pick up the pace, crossing the room in a few strides, irritation rearing up over the frayed nerves.
“Brendon,” I say, louder. “Come on, stop fucking around. I know you’re tired but—”
Then my brain catches up to the details. There’s a little line of red at the corner of Brendon’s mouth. It glistens in the dim light, catching my eye because it’s out of place. My brain tries to file it under anything else—drool, chocolate, a smear of food. Then the metallic tang hits my nose.
Blood.
It’s wrong on him.
I drop to my knees beside the couch and grab his shoulder, shaking him gently at first. “Brendon, wake up.”
His skin is too pale, even for him. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead, hair damp at the temples. His lips part slightly, that thin trickle of red drying at the corner, trailing down toward his chin.
“Brendon,” I say, voice cracking. “Baby. Hey. Open your eyes.”
His head lolls, and he groans, lashes fluttering but not fully lifting. His chest moves, shallow but there. He’s still breathing; that’s something. Relief and terror crash together so hard I feel nauseous.
“Come on,” I mutter, patting his cheek. “Hey, look at me. Open your fucking eyes, Brendon, come on. Please open your eyes.”
He makes a soft sound, but his eyes stay closed. My own breath starts to come too fast, but I force myself to slow it down. Freaking out won’t help him. I need to assess and figure out where the blood’s from. Mouth could be anything: a busted lip, coughing, internal blee—
I shove that last word away and run my hand down his hoodie, pressing gently, checking for dampness.
The T-shirt underneath is soaked on the left side, fabric clinging dark and sticky. The smell hits me a half-second before the sight does. The blood isn’t pouring, but the hoodie is soaked enough that I know it’s not nothing. I press my hand lightly around the wound, feeling the heat, the tacky resistance. He groan again—a tiny, pained sound.
“Fuck,” I breathe. “Fuck, fuck,fuck.”
I peel the shirt up further, careful not to pull too fast, and see the source; a stab wound, low on his side, just above the hip, ugly and swollen. Not deep enough to kill instantly, but bad enough that if he bleeds out, or if something inside is hit wrong…
My heart slams against my ribs.
I cradle his head with one hand, the other hovering uselessly above the wound because I don’t have gauze—I don’t have anything. This is not how I operate. I know how to make these injuries, not how to patch them.
“Dom…”
His voice is a whisper, ragged and weak, but it’s there. His lashes flutter, and his eyes crack open, hazy and unfocused.
“Hey,” I say, my heart sitting in my fucking throat. “There you are, Little Sin. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Hurts…” he breathes.
“I know,” I say, because I can’t lie to him now. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”
There’s a choice here—there’s always a choice. Call an ambulance. Call Seth. Call anyone. Get him out of this house and into a hospital before whatever’s going on inside his body tips into something he can’t come back from. Expose myself, expose him, expose the wound and the cottage and the blood and the history.
I’m halfway to reaching for my phone when I hear a slow, soft clap behind me.
My whole body freezes, and I don’t have to turn to know who it is. The air changes when she’s in the room; it always has. The temperature drops, and all the shadows sharpen when she’s close.
“Domenyk,” my mother says, voice smooth and satisfied. “I should have known.”
