Page 95 of Hell’s Weapon

“Tarron,” Garrick pauses as we reach the front door. I want to scream at him to move faster. “I need you to make sure any CCTV footage of her is wiped. Check the ones covering all the entrances, and the sky facing ones too. Any officers that saw her need to be told to keep their mouths shut. I will address them all later.”

“But why? You’re acting like this isn’t a surprise.”

“It’s not. And I’ll tell you later.”

He opens the door and immediately freezes again. The step is covered in blood. A feral snarl leaves his lips and then he’s taking off. I jump over the red stains, useless to do anything but jog after him.

We burst into the infirmary and are immediately faced with Tacita. She’s sat on the floor, legs pulled up, her torso only covered by her sports bra and copious amounts of blood.

I nearly gag knowing it’s Milo’s.

She jumps up as she hears us and flies at Garrick. “Those fucking pricks! The ones you had in for questioning. They ambushed us. Sixty-Two stabbed him, used magic to wield a knife and stabbed him.”

She beats Garrick’s chest with her bloodied fists. I’ve never seen her this feral. Tears streak her cheeks and her hair is wild.

“It was those that we had in the cells?” Garrick asks calmly, trying to hold her by her arms.

“Yes. They came out for blood. We solved the game. Went to get the weapon and got fucking ambushed. I wasn’t quick enough.” She crumbles again, her legs giving out. “He’s going to die and it’s my fault and it hurts so fucking bad.”

Garrick crouches as I stand numb to the scene before me. He grips her chin with his fingers and forces her to look at him.

“You brought him back here. If he can be saved, Dominic will do it. We can’t stop every asshole hell-bent on killing.”

“Please tell me you’ll punish them. I trapped their souls.”

“It’ll be my pleasure, Goddess." Garrick smiles down at her as I watch a tenderness pass between them I’d never think they were capable of.

Slowly, Garrick helps her to her feet once more and it’s as he moves around her, murmuring something about going to help Dominic–who I assume is the medic guy–before gently passing her into my arms.

“Wyatt,” she breathes through fresh tears. Her arms wrap around my shoulders and her fingers grip onto the fabric covering my back. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Unsure how to react, I simply fold her into my chest and hold her as sobs rack her body.

“You don’t need to be sorry. If Milo got attacked, I know you would’ve done everything to protect him.” I gently stroke her hair and breathe in her scent. The rich fruits mixed with the blood and sweat is almost comforting, except the ill feeling pitching through my stomach as I remember it’s Milo’s blood.

It feels like we stand there for hours, clinging to one another as we wait. Garrick comes out once to tell us Milo is alive but they need to keep working to ensure he stays that way.

He gives me an assessing look, but must find whatever he’s looking for, as he leaves again without saying anything more.

More time passes and the frosted pane in the entrance door starts to lighten, then the sunlight begins streaking through. I simply keep my arm around my girl and wait. We haven’t talked any further, and I think she falls asleep for a little while, but our grip on each other never slips.

Finally, Dominic comes out of the room where they’ve been treating Milo. He looks tired, weary, but smiles as soon as he locks eyes with us sitting on the floor.

I nudge Tacita, pretty sure her eyes had closed again, and she jolts awake. “Dom, please, is he okay?”

“He’s stable. Humans are damn hard to keep alive, I won’t sugar coat it. But he responded well and I think he’ll live.”

Hot relief crashes into me with that last word. Leaning my head back against the wall, I’m the one crying this time, as I fail to keep the tears from spilling out. Tacita is up and hugging Dominic. He returns it before she pulls back, thanking him.

“Can we see him?” she asks.

“Of course. I am going to go get some food and possibly a nap. I'm running on dregs here, but come get me if you need me.” He gently pats Tacita’s arm before giving me a nod and walking out through the main doorway.

“Come on,” Tacita says, facing me and holding out her hand. Taking a breath, I try to muster the courage to move but remain sitting. My girl crouches back down on her haunches. “He’s going to be okay.”

“I know. It’s just, we nearly lost him.”

“But we didn’t,” she says softly.