Page 202 of Captive Ruin

“Lukas!” I scream.

Behind him, a third man lies on the floor, bleeding heavily but not dead, his weapon canted awkwardly as he struggles to lift it. His gaze is fixed on me.

Cold clarity cuts through my terror. I drop the knife, my own gun coming up in a two-handed grip. Adrenaline pushing everything else away. My vision tunnels.

Safety. Aim. Squeeze.

My gun kicks hard, but the single bullet smashes into the man’s shoulder, right by his neck. It’s not where I was aiming, but it’s close enough. His body jerks then slumps, his weapon falling limp, blood pooling beneath him. He’s dead, I know he is.

I’ve just killed a man, and I can’t look away. A man that was about to shoot Lukas, shoot me. Three of them dead on this floor, and if Van Wyk hadn’t somehow wounded him first? We’d both be dead.

I want to throw up.

“Good shot, Little Stray.”

His voice snaps my focus to him. He’s slumped against the wall, red everywhere. It’s smeared all over his skin, three wounds vicious and bleeding. His thigh, his shoulder, the skin split open across his ribs.

“Lukas, no!” I drop beside him, my hand finding his chest, slippery with his blood.

I don’t know what to do, whether I should touch him or if that would make it worse.

He threw himself over me. He’s hit because he protected me, and all because I couldn’t move. His blood is on my skin, but it should be me lying bleeding, not him.

My hands are shaking. “No, please, no. Don’t die on me, Lukas, you bastard!”

He smiles slowly. “I like hearing my name on your lips, but this isn’t how I envisaged you screaming it.” His voice is weak.

“You and your goddamn jokes.” The stench of his blood fills my nose, and I can’t see anything but him and his wounds. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do!”

“Help me up,” he says through clenched teeth. “Need to reach the garage.”

“You’re dying,” I say desperately, tears blurring my vision. My hands hover over him, one of them still gripping my gun. “You’re bleeding so much. We need to call an ambulance.”

“They’ll take too long.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek, sticky with his blood. “Little Stray, listen. I can’t drive, not like this. You’ll need to. I might lose consciousness. We need to reach the car before then. Help me to the garage.”

“All right.” I nod, drawing in a shuddering breath, pressing my face to his palm. “All right, we can do this.”

“I’ll be fine, Little Stray,” he says softly. “I’m not going to abandon you again.”

“Okay… okay…” He won’t abandon me. He never breaks his word.

With my help and the wall, he staggers to his feet, grimacing with the effort.

I slip beneath his arm, pressing up close, sliding an arm around his waist. “Can I touch you here?”

He chuckles through his pain. “You can touch me anywhere.”

“Damn it, Lukas…” He’s bleeding from three gunshot wounds, for God’s sake. I have the insane urge to shake him, make him take this seriously.

“This feels nice. I hope the nurses have silk robes too.”

That’s not remotely funny, but it’s just so… him. “Please don’t die,” I say through my tears.

“No chance,” he mutters as we stagger down the hallway. “It’s taken me too long to find you.”

We reach the stairs and he leans heavily on the banister, favoring his good leg. I don’t know how he’s even moving, but I do what I can to help.

The floor below is littered with bodies. The walls are riddled with shrapnel. The windows have blown outward, the glass and debris minimal on the floor, thank God, because we’re both barefoot.