Page 27 of Isaac

And so on and so forth.

Until a hollow silence suffocates every other sound.

The wound is deep and messy, tearing open his flesh like a grenade went off inside him.

Blast radius similar to point-blank shotgun damage, I deduce in my head as hate coils tightly inside me.

Bastard who did that will pay.

But for now, I’m not going to worry about revenge. I’m going to worry about Flynn, ask the motherfucker upstairs to spare his life.

There’s more blood pooling on the concrete floor as Hawk focuses on Flynn’s wound.

My heart thuds in my chest, each beat echoing my desperation for Flynn to pull through. The rest of my crew hover nearby, their expressions a mixture of worry and uncertainty. This stranger holds one of our own in his hands, and again, I feel like I've failed them by letting it come to this.

"Got it," Hawk murmurs, pulling the bullet from Flynn's flesh with a pair of pliers. He quickly applies pressure to the wound, staunching the flow of blood, then grabs the staplerRicky has doused in the vodka and staples the wound. "He's stable for now but there are pellets still left in his abdomen. He needs real surgery and antibiotics."

"Okay," I say, my voice strained.

Next to me, Jeremy mutters a series of frustrated curses under his breath, running his hands through his short hair.

I walk over to the table at the same time Hawk steps away from it. He looks at me as if asking what next, the tight space between us almost vibrating.

I look back, scanning his white dress shirt covered in blood, his hands too.

"There’s a bathroom," I tell him, jerking my chin toward the door in the very corner. My voice is low and emotionless despite the chaos inside my head.

Hawk nods and slips away. The tension in the room eases slightly, replaced by sick anticipation. The seconds stretch into painfully long minutes while I pace the length of the warehouse, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts–guilt, relief, and a flicker of begrudging gratitude toward the man who'd just saved Flynn's life.

Doc arrives ten minutes later.

He surveys Hawk’s handiwork, head shaking in disbelief, but grudgingly admits that this butchering might have been Flynn's lifeline.

Jeremy hauls me away and toward the restroom door. "Boss," he hisses out as Doc begins his work. "What are we gonna do about that fool?"

He means Hawk.

The gut reaction would be to threaten him into silence or erase him off completely—an action right up Jacob’s alley—but I'm not one to end lives needlessly. The death taste lingers unpleasantly at the back of my throat; a rare sentimentality for men like us.

After a moment of loaded silence with the backdrop of Doc's steady drone of medical tools against skin, I reply, "I’ll handle it."

Jeremy grunts out something unintelligible and disgruntled but doesn’t challenge my words.

I quickly extend my arm and gesture toward his Glock, and he immediately hands it over to me.

Cool to touch, it's oddly serene but also fills me with piping trepidation as I make my way to the bathroom, halting for a second before pushing the door open.

The swell of power is bittersweet, like dark chocolate against my tongue. Its taste pulses through me, lending its heavy notes to this complex symphony of sensations that is unfolding inside me.

The door squeals softly, revealing Hawk shirtless in front of the sink, wiping the last remnants of blood from his torso with a damp cloth.

Time seems to slow for a moment as I take in the sight before me–every inch of him carved with precision, like a statue forged by some master sculptor. A labyrinth of scars crisscrosses the skin on his right abdomen, wrapping around his trim waist and spreading its gnarled swirls onto his lower back.

Several tattoos canvas his body. A phrase on his left pec.Semper fidelis. An anchor on his right shoulder. There’s ink on his back too but I can’t see it from my limited view.

The scent here is strong. Soap. Blood. Fear.

Behind me, the door slides shut with a metal clang and the sounds of commotion out in the warehouse fade away, leaving us alone with only the drip of water still running.

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