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“Oh God,” I choked.

I rushed up behind the cluster of men and shouldered through the hulking muscle.

“Get out of my way,” I rasped.

I didn’t even care if it revealed my feelings. I didn’t care if it stained the slats of the wood floor with my truth.

I had to get to Trevan. To see him and know that he was whole.

Fuse, Pyke, and Regan stumbled out of my way, their annoyance shifting to sympathy when they realized it was me jostling through.

I didn’t think it was any secret that Trevan and I were close.

Finally, I broke around Phoenix and Brody who were up close to the table.

It felt like a boulder toppled out of me when I saw him.

Laid out on top of a worn blanket.

An oxygen mask over his face, and Silas held a bag filled with blood high over his head. The line wound down to the needle stuck in his arm.

His cut and tee had been removed, and the man was a bloodied mess of tattooed flesh.

The club doctor leaned over him, suturing a wound right above his hip.

“Trevan.” The gasp of horror ripped out of me. Terror took another whirl through my being as I saw him lying there.

But he was alive.

He was alive.

Relief slammed me, and I nearly bent in two.

“What the hell are you doing in here, Elena?” Silas wheezed, irritation and concern radiating from him.

“Trevan.” It was the only thing I could answer. His name on repeat.

Trevan ripped down the oxygen mask, gasping toward the ceiling as he arched in pain from the needle jamming through his skin.

Apparently they hadn’t taken the time to numb him.

“I’m fine, Lena. Go back to the house. You shouldn’t be out here.”

Brody cracked a broken grin beside me.

“Yeah, go back to the house. You don’t want to see this idiot ruining my favorite pool table by bleeding all over it.”

Brody might have issued it as a joke, but I could hear the turmoil seeded in it.

Brinley’s heave of worry blistered over me as she rushed into the fray.

Silas looked at her. Dread and apology in his voice. “Didn’t want either of you in here. You don’t need to see this.”

But I did.

I needed to see him. To see that he was whole. That he was okay.

But what if he hadn’t been? What if he’d never known how I really felt? What if we didn’t have the chance to even explore us?