Page 37 of Marked

The front part of the cave was small, much smaller than I remembered, but it would have to be enough to hold the two of us for the night. We were out of options. On the bright side, we had a good vantage point to see if anyone or anything approached.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I prefer the yurt,” Noah commented, hunching over to avoid hitting his head on the rocks above us.

“At least it’s dry,” was the only response I could come up with.

“Come on.”

He grabbed my hand, leading us a few steps farther in. Lighting was sparse, with only a smattering filtering in from outside, so once we were situated on the dirt-covered ground, Noah used the flashlight app on the phone to search the bags. My body sagged in relief when he withdrew the small cooler from the larger bag. In all the chaos, I’d completely forgotten we put it there for our hike back to the horses. Inside were a couple bottles of water, an extra sandwich, and a bag of jerky. Luck—it seemed—might finally be on our side. We wouldn’t starve.

Cracking open one of the waters, Noah gestured. “Lean back. I need to clean out your wound before we lose what little light we have.”

Resting against the rock wall, I pulled my shirt up to just below my breast. The bullet struck below the bottom of my rib cage, in the fleshy part of my side. Underneath the dried blood, a gnarly bruise had begun to bloom, spanning the width of my ribs and extending down to my hip.

“Deep breath, Lanie. This may hurt.”

He was wrong. Agony was a better description. Hell, a swarm of bumble bees using my flesh as a pincushion would’ve felt better than when the first splash of water hit the wound. Clenching my jaw, I ground my molars hard enough to crack as Noah used a towel to clean away the sweat, dirt, and blood. I tried to stay strong, but when he skirted the edges, I broke against the pain. Tears dripped off my chin and a muffled whimper slipped through my gritted teeth.

Anguished sapphire eyes snapped to mine. “I’m so sorry. Do you need a break?”

I shook my head. “How much longer?”

“Not much.”

“Keep going.”

Two minutes later, it was over.

“It could use stitches, but…” His voice had an edge to it that wasn’t there moments ago.

“What’s wrong?” I reached for him, but he fell back on his ass, knees bent with his feet planted firmly on the ground. He was putting distance between us; the question was, why? Something was off.

“You’re gonna start bleeding again if you keep moving around.”

His words were clipped, almost harsh, like he was on the edge. My Noah was the king of control, but right then he appeared seconds away from snapping like a twig. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Wait. Are you mad?” He stared at his fingers, tinged red with my blood, where they dangled between his knees, flexing and releasing, all while refusing to look at me. “Noah?”

“I. Am. Furious.”

“At me?” I croaked.

When his head lifted, the air whooshed from my lungs. There was a hint of fear, but it was hidden far beneath the sharp edges of anger, which made the muscle in his cheek twitch. I never wanted to see that look on his face again as long as I lived.

“You threw yourself in front of a bullet, Lanie,” he seethed, tearing his fingers through his already messy hair. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I—”

“Don’t ever put yourself in danger for me.”

“It—”

“Jesus Christ.” He smacked his hands against the dirt. “A few inches higher and we wouldn’t even be having this conversation, Lanie. You’d be dead.”

“No—”

“You have no idea how much I want to redden your ass right now.”

“For fuck’s sake, Noah, will you let me talk?” I groaned, immediately regretting my outburst since the action pulled at my wound.

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