Page 24 of Broken

“Run,” he said to Ireland. “Back in the house. I’ll cover you.”

“Don’t be an idiot. There’s still a little magic I can do. Just don’t stop shooting.” She shoved a new magazine into her gun and handed it to him, so he had one in each hand.

Automatically, he fired. What was wrong with her? She had to go. He could only protect her until his ammo ran out.

She muttered something, and a white light surrounded him.

She had to go without him. He was bleeding too bad. This was it.

Then he felt his body lift a few inches off the ground. Ireland grabbed his collar and yanked.

And he moved. She’d done some kind of levitation spell, lifting him so she could pull him along.

Cole just kept shooting, keeping the monsters at bay. He could feel Ireland straining to pull him along, the magic faint and patchy without a Protector to regulate it.

But she didn’t give up. She didn’t leave him.

Idiot woman.

Finally, they were inside the wards, and then he tilted upwards as they went up the stairs to the house. She pulled him inside and shut the door behind them. The spell broke, and he sank to the floor.

“Oh my gods and goddesses,” she was muttering. “First aid supplies.”

“On the table in the bedroom,” he said. “Never put them away.”

He heard her stumbling into the other room, as if her legs were wobbly with the effort it had taken to get him in the house.

Cole gritted his teeth and grabbed the torn scraps of his pants, pulling them to draw the mangled flesh together. Then he tried to put pressure on the wound, but his strength was draining out of him along with the blood. A coldness swept over him, creeping up from his extremities.

Ireland came running back and lurched to her knees beside him, pulling gauze pads out of the first-aid kit and pressing down on the wound. Blood oozed out the sides and soaked the gauze.

This was bad. Fucking bad.

Ireland took one look at his face and said through clenched teeth, “Oh, no. Not you too. You are not dying.”

“Of course not,” he said, his lips stiff. “I have shifter healing. I’ll be fine.”

He wouldn’t. He’d need a surgeon to put his leg back together before it started to heal, if he ever wanted to walk right again.

But it wouldn’t come to that.

She said, “I don’t know what shifter healing is supposed to do, but it’s not doing it.”

The cold shadow crept closer to his heart. He didn’t say anything.

“The bleeding isn’t stopping,” she muttered. “Shit.”

Spots floated before Cole’s eyes, and a wave of darkness passed over him. He tried to raise his head, and couldn’t.

“No,” she repeated fiercely. “Don’t you dare.” She slapped his cheek, a stinging blow that brought him back for a minute.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he managed. “It’s been a bad couple of days for your protectors.”

He felt her freeze, her body going completely still. Then she let go of his bandage and started rooting around in her pockets. She muttered, “I know we’re both going to regret this.”

He didn’t know what she meant. His vision was going dark again. “I don’t have regrets,” he managed. It was a lie. He tried not to allow himself regrets, but he fucking had them. Who didn’t?

She said grimly, “You will soon.”

She grabbed his hand, and he dimly felt something close around his left wrist. Something cold and metallic.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then an explosion of heat and light came from his wrist, traveling up his arm and jump-starting his heart. It spread through his body like wildfire, lighting his nerves on fire, and his body seized.

The cold dissipated. He felt the flesh and bone of his thigh start to move, rearrange itself. An excruciating pain lanced through him, and he heard himself scream.

And then the world went away.