Page 12 of A Past Too Broken

“Shut up. Something iswrong.” Gathering my hair, I use the hair tie around my wrist to tie it into a low tail at the base of my neck.

With my hair out of the way, I stride to my bedroom and grab some weapons before heading for the door. I don’t know what happened, but Min didn’t sound… right. It’s not like we spend any time on the phone, but I know his voice, know that something was off in his tone and the way he breathed.

Not only that, but I know what someone in pain sounds like.

* * *

The rundown motelMin gave me the address to makes me thankful I got a tetanus shot after he fucking stabbed me back in June.

I click the alarm button on my key fob twice, knowing it won’t provide extra security, but unwilling to leave my car in the dark parking lot otherwise. The stairs are at least reasonably sound as I climb to the second floor. Min’s room is at the end, close to the stairs. I wonder if he asked or just got lucky.

Knocking on the door, I try not to let the fear bubbling in me take over as two long minutes tick down by the time Min answers. All it takes is one look at him to understand why.

He’s not wearing a shirt, but the bloodsoaked bandage affixed crookedly to his side is all I can pay attention to.

“Get your shit,” I order.

Min jumps, his black eyes a little hazy. I curse, gently pushing past him. There’s a duffel bag spilled out on the bed, clothes and the contents of a first aid kit strewn about. Haphazardly, I toss things in the bag after putting all the medical supplies away. I find Min’s gun underneath the pile of clothes and give him a disgusted look because he doesn’t have it on hand. The state of him: pale, forehead and chest covered in a light sheen of sweat, and wounded, says he wouldn’t have been able to use it anyway, though.

Giving the room the same thorough once over I give every room I stay in, I make sure nothing gets left behind, then I shrug out of my jacket and help Min into it.

“I… I have clothes,” he says a little breathlessly.

“You have nothing appropriate to throw over that wound,” I counter. “I don’t want you to aggravate it by lifting your arms for a shirt. Deal with it.”

Throwing his bag over my shoulder, I wrap my arm around Min’s waist, fingers resting just above the bandage. Carefully but as quickly as possible, I help Min down the stairs and into my car. He’s panting by the time I buckle him into the front seat and toss his bag into the back.

“Didn’t… expect to see you… so soon,” he says between heavy, panting breaths.

“Hush. Just rest and try not to die; it’s my privilege to kill you, no one else’s.”

“No promises,” he mutters, closing his eyes.

Without thinking too much, I pull onto the road, my only destination home. Hopefully Reggie isn’t too upset about our unexpected guest.

When I open my eyes, I meet a pair of bright blue ones set in a squished, round face, with long red fur. The cat glares at me, despite the fact I’ve done nothing but lie here. Not that I know wherehereis, exactly.

I’m lying on a bed and my entire body is sore, but my wound doesn’t feel like it’s on fire anymore, so there’s that. I’m assuming I’ve been cleaned up and properly cared for, but the confusion is high.

The cat and I stare at each other as I try to figure it out.

After that bastard stabbed me and left me to my misery, I’d managed to pull myself together long enough to get out of that hellhole. While the wound is rather deep, his angle was shit, so it didn’t hit anything vital. I lasted long enough to find a motel to hole up in. No way was I going home in case he decided to follow me.

After trying to wash and dress my wound and almost passing out several times, I realized I was in trouble. The problem with being a loner and not having any close contacts is knowing whom to trust with something like this. Which is why I ended up calling… Oh fuck.

Just as I remember who I called, the man appears. Zay’s shoulder-length, curly brown hair is loose and damp, as if he’d gotten out of the shower recently. The sight of him in gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt sells the theory. The clothes also outline how fuckinghothe is.

I knew he was aesthetically pleasing; I’m not blind, and the few brief moments we were close to one another highlighted how well-put together and handsome he is. He has a sharp jaw, golden brown eyes, and dark, expressive eyebrows. His broad shoulders and strong chest fill out his shirt nicely, leading to a tapered waist and strong legs.

His hands are shoved into the pockets of his pants and he stares at me for a long moment before moving his gaze to the cat. “I see you’ve met Reggie,” he says in a deep, smooth voice.

I look at the cat—Reggie—then back to Zay. “I don’t think he likes me.”

Zay chuckles a little. “Don’t take it personally. Reggie doesn’t like anyone on his side of the bed.”

“Th… this isyourplace?”

Zay moves closer and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. Reggie moves away from me and climbs onto his lap. “Yes, it is. I… I didn’t have any other options, Min.Youdidn’t give me another choice. You needed care, and it’s not like I could have taken you to the hospital. All the available safehouses are currently out of order or occupied. This was the only thing I could think to do.”

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