Page 31 of Bryce

“You get through this,” I muttered close to his ear as I bent over his broken arm. “You get through this, and you get home to them. They need you. Don’t give up on them.”

Isla knelt beside me, her hand on my shoulder, one of the torches trained on Gate’s face. “He’s strong,” she reminded me, her hand squeezing. “You know how strong he is. Just as we all are. He will heal. He must.”

Would he?

Once his arm was set and wrapped that it might at least remain in place long enough for the bone to knit itself together again, I checked his abdomen. It felt harder than before, but I might have been imagining it. Was I?

“Torch,” I barked.

Isla trained the light on the place where my hands hovered.

The bruising had darkened and spread.

“No… no!” I grunted, gritting my teeth. “Damn it, no!”

“What’s wrong?” Leslie whimpered.

Logan summed it up. “There’s a chance he’s bleeding internally.”

I’d never performed surgery in these conditions.

We were all covered in dirt, in the middle of the woods, possibly with a horde of triumphant sorcerers prepared to bear down on us at any moment. They must have heard or felt the explosion and would likely be out to see what had tripped their bomb.

The alternative was to do nothing. To let him die without at least trying to save him for Martina’s sake. For the baby he simply had to meet.

My lion took over again, seeing clearly through the fog of self-doubt and sentiment. “Prep the tools,” I ordered. “Leslie, you’ll find a bottle of alcohol in my pack. After you do, bring it to me along with a bottle of water, then build a fire to keep him warm. Isla, I’ll need you to light him for me when I’m ready.”

I met her gaze. “Can you do that?”

Her eyes narrowed. She knew what I meant. Could she watch me cut into him? Could she, as I sewed the injured organ?

“I can.”

There was nothing to do but prepare, then.

And hope I was quick enough and deft enough to spare him.

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