Chapter 43
Wren
My arms are shaking from the exertion of holding my shirt to Grim’s wound. My back aches from hunching over him. But I don’t dare let up the pressure. Not even for a second.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I hear the sound of an engine in the distance. I look up, my heart leaping with hope.
Drake’s truck comes into view through the trees, and relief floods me.
His vehicle skids to a stop, and Drake jumps out. He’s carrying a small bag and a couple of water bottles.
“Thank god,” I gasp. “Drake, I need—”
I stop when I see what he’s holding. A basic first aid kit. The kind you’d find in any household. It’ll have Band-Aids, antiseptic wipes, Tylenol, and some gauze, if we’re lucky.
It’s not enough.
“That’s all you brought?” I yell. “Where’s the medical equipment? The IV fluids? The blood? Drake, we need—”
“It was more important that I get here.” His voice is tight. “We need to move you both to a place of safety. Right now.”
“No.” I shake my head. “We need to take Grim to a hospital. He needs surgery. He needs—”
“That’s not an option.” Drake’s jaw clenches. “Not until we clear your names. If we take him to a hospital, they’ll arrest you both the second you walk through those doors. Then you’ll have an unfortunate accident, and that will be the end of that.”
Drake crouches down beside me, his eyes scanning over Grim’s injuries. His expression tightens for a moment.
“They did a number on him,” he says.
“Is that all you have to say?”
Drake puts a hand on my shoulder. “Wren, listen to me. I know you’re worried, but Grim will be fine. I promise you. Did you manage to get the phone?”
“How can you ask me that? I don’t care about the cellphone.”
“Yes, you do. That cellphone is the reason Grim is hurt. He isn’t dying; you can get that out of your head and snap out of this panic. Give me the cellphone.”
I pull in a deep breath, feeling a little better. He looks so sure that Grim is going to be okay that I believe him, but not enough to take my hand off the shirt pressed against his wound.
“It’s in my pocket.”
I shift slightly, careful to maintain the pressure on Grim’s injury, and Drake reaches into my jeans pocket and pulls it out.
“Jesus.” He turns it over in his hands. “It’s pretty broken. The body is cracked, and the screen is completely smashed.”
“I know. I dropped it from a height. Do you think we can get it fixed?”
Drake presses the power button. Nothing happens. He tries again, holding it down longer. Still nothing.
“There could be internal damage. I know someone we can trust. He’s a genius with this kind of thing. I’ll take this to him as soon as the two of you are safe.”
“I will—” I start to say when Grim groans. I lean over him, searching his face. “Grim, can you hear me?”
His eyes flutter open, unfocused and confused. They roll slightly before finding mine.
“Wren?” His voice is hoarse and weak.
Relief crashes over me so powerfully that I sob. “Yes. Yes, it’s me. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”
Drake moves to his other side. “Hey, buddy. Welcome back.”
Grim blinks slowly, trying to focus. His gaze drifts between us, then down to where my hands are pressed against his leg. Confusion creases his brow.
“What…?” He tries to move, to push himself up.
“No!” I press down on his shoulder with one hand while keeping pressure on his thigh with the other. “Stay right where you are. Don’t move. You need to stay still. You were badly injured.”
He winces, his face contorting in pain. “Everything hurts.”
“Understatement of the year,” I tell him.
“I hate being burned.” He closes his eyes briefly. “It’s the worst.”
“Worse than being shot?” I ask, trying to keep him talking, keep him conscious.
He actually manages a small nod. “Way worse.”
“You’ve been burned before?” I sound shocked because I am.
“Yes.” He nods. “Worse than this.”
I’m shocked into silence. I can’t imagine how that’s even possible, but the haunted look that flashes across his face tells me he’s not lying.
Drake uncaps one of the water bottles.
“Here. Drink this. It’ll help.” He helps Grim, who downs half the bottle.
“Can you get up?” Drake asks. “Can you walk?”
“I think so.” Grim starts to push himself up.
“Absolutely not.” I glare at Drake. “Forget it. He needs to stay still, or the bleeding will start again. He’s lost too much blood already.”
“I’m fine.” Grim’s jaw sets.
“You’re not fine!” My voice rises. “You want me to list everything that’s wrong with you?
Two gunshot wounds, one of which more than likely hit your femoral artery.
Extensive second and third-degree burns covering at least fifteen percent of your body.
Possible hypovolemic shock. Tachycardia. Hypotension. Signs of—”
“Wren.” Grim meets my eyes. “I’m a shifter. Not human. I’m already healing.”
“That’s not—”
“It might take a few days before I’m fully back to normal,” he continues, “but I will be. I promise. There won’t even be so much as a scar.”
I stare at him, my mouth open. A few days? He should be dead in a few hours, not healed in a few days. But the absolute certainty in his voice gives me pause.
Drake is already moving to Grim’s other side. “Come on. Let’s get you up.”
“This is insane.” But I ease back, letting Drake help Grim to a sitting position.
Grim grimaces, breathing hard through his teeth. Sweat beads on his forehead. But he doesn’t pass out or collapse back down.
Drake gets an arm under his shoulder. “On three. One, two—”
The sound of engines makes us all freeze. It sounds like there are multiple vehicles incoming.
Drake’s head snaps up, his eyes going wide. “No. No, that’s not possible.”
At least a dozen vehicles surround our position; tires screech and dust blows up as they halt.
“How did they find us?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” Drake’s face has gone pale. “I wasn’t followed. I swear to you, I made sure. I don’t understand.”
Doors open, and armed Security Force operatives pour out, their weapons already raised.
We’re surrounded, and Grim can barely stand.
Grim
My blood runs cold as I stare at the armed men pouring out of those vehicles. My dragon tries to wake. He tries hard but fails. I’m too weak, too injured. He goes back to sleeping, deep inside me, unavailable for the time being. It might be a day before I can shift again.
Which means I can’t protect Wren. He stirs again as I think her name, but that’s all I get.
I force myself to stand anyway, gritting my teeth against the pain that screams through my body. Every muscle protests. The burns on my back and shoulder feel like they’re being pulled apart. My thigh throbs where the bullet tore through.
But I don’t give a fuck about any of that.
I plant myself in front of Wren, putting my body between her and the weapons pointing in our direction. The guns that are about to go off.
Drake stands too, positioning himself in front of both of us. His jaw is set, his shoulders squared. He looks ready to take on the entire Security Force single-handed.
The idiot doesn’t seem to realize they’ll gun him down, too. That they’ll paint him as just another corrupt Council member. Another conspirator in whatever bullshit narrative they’ve concocted about me.
They’ll destroy him and his reputation. He’ll be dead like us. Another statistic.
I don’t say anything because it doesn’t matter.
The security operatives advance, dressed in full combat gear and armed with automatic weapons. Their faces are hidden behind helmets and visors. Anonymous. Just following orders.
My mind races, trying to find a way out of this. But there isn’t one. Not that I can think of anyway.
A screech splits the air from above.
No. No. No!
My heart sinks. More dragons with riders. They’re making sure we can’t escape by air. Making absolutely certain we’re caught.
There was a part of me that was hoping Drake would shift and get himself to safety, but that isn’t going to happen now.
Then again, Drake is a stickler for rules. He won’t shift without his rider.
Several Security Force males break formation and advance toward us, weapons raised. Their fingers are on the triggers.
They’re going to kill us. Right here and right now.
Bastards.
“We’re unarmed,” Drake says. “Grim and Wren surrender.”
Wren clutches my arm, her fingers digging into my bicep.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, even though it’s the biggest fucking lie I’ve ever told.
The lead guard raises his weapon, taking aim, and they open fire.
Drake starts shifting as soon as they do. His body expands, clothes ripping away as he goes into a partial shift. Scales burst across his skin. His muscles grow and stretch, his frame expanding but not quite getting to a full change.
We’re shielded behind him.
His body jerks as the bullets hit him. Most are repelled, but not all. Blood sprays from multiple wounds.
The screeches from above grow louder as a dragon descends at speed, making the operatives scatter. They dive for cover.
I’m unsure whether they are about to attack them or us. It’s clear the humans were not expecting the dragons, which gives me hope.
They’re the same ones I fought at the Vaccination Center. I recognize the one from flight school. Mist and her rider, Becca. I couldn’t bring myself to hurt them too badly, let alone to kill them.
I knocked Mist out; she would have revived soon after we left. I don’t recognize the green dragon. I ripped his wing so he couldn’t fly. Superficial wounds heal quickly. He’s proof of that. They both look like the picture of health.
I showed them mercy, and now we’re going to pay for it.
The dragons land, placing themselves directly between us and the security forces. Dust and debris explode outward from the impact. The ground trembles beneath my feet.
They’re protecting us.
“What is the meaning of this?” one of the combat males shouts, lowering his weapon slightly. His voice is filled with anger. “Why are you here? You’re interfering in a Mainland Security situation.”