Page 59 of The Hunted

Lazz begins to push the door in just as gun shots start to ring out around us. The bullets crash into the stone and dirt.

“Fuck!” Lazz roars as a bullet nicks his shoulder. The blood begins to trickle down his bicep, but he doesn’t flinch or stop forcing his weight against the door.

“Get behind me, Raven! This fucking door is stuck.”

I move to stand behind him, using him as a human shield. He’s putting himself in the line of fire to keep me safe. He continues to push, and I help, pressing my weight onto the wood. Slowly, the heavy wooden door moves back enough to allow us access to the room beyond.

He shoves me through the opening before following me inside.

“Who the hell was that? Why are they shooting at us?“ I bend over, resting my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

“Seems Vaughn Bane has some back-up.”

“Who? Who would help him?”

“Likely some men he hired from within the group.”

We begin to jog again, making our way through the new maze of tunnels.

“Albatross? You mean those were hitmen?”

“I’d say so.”

Lazz jogs, and I watch as the blood seeps freely from his wound.

“You’re bleeding!”

Blood pours from the wound, running down his arm before it trickles to the floor. We come to another door, and he forces it open. The hinges groan in protest. It’s hard to tell how long it’s been since anyone was last down here. Cobwebs cover the walls and cling to the light fixtures overhead.

“I’ll live.” He shoves the door shut behind us.

“Gotta move, girl.”

We run, and the blood begins to pour heavier from his wound.

“Stop. Stop, Lazz.”

I come to a halt, putting my hands on my waist.

“We don’t have time to stop.” He passes by me before turning to face me.

“We have to stop the bleeding on your arm.”

I bend down and rip at the bottom of the white dress, trying to tear away a piece to use as a tourniquet. I rip a long strand and step up to Lazz to tie it off. He watches me wrap the fabric around his arm from the corner of his eye. His arm is covered in blood. I’m not sure how much farther he’d make it before passing out if we don’t stop the blood flow.

“I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole to you. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did that night, or any of the others.”

I don’t say anything. I’m not sure I can forgive him. I tie the tourniquet off, and Lazz nods his head in thanks. Then, we run.

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