Page 136 of Bad Cowboy, Tennessee

And in front of the truck, I saw two figures.

Draven, charging towardhim.

My heart was going to explode. I sucked in air as I pushed my legs to run faster.

When I saw Draven drop to his knees, it was like the ground gave way underneath me.

I was so close.

So fucking close.

But I knew Draven going down wasn’t right.

I ran, watching as the other guy started to walk off slowly. He didn’t seem to walk normally, instead teetering as if he had an injured leg. He was darting his head around quickly, maniacally and panicked, heading off toward his car.

My ears started to ring as I sprinted faster.

And when I got close enough to see the blood, my heart lurched up toward my throat.

“No,” I tried to say, but no sound came out.

I ran up to Draven, finding him collapsed on his knees, blood spilling from the side of his body.

“Themotherfucker,” Draven was growling, but it was clear he wasn’t himself.

He was losing blood.

More blood than I’d ever seen outside of a TV show.

I pulled the shirt off my body and pressed it to the side of his body where the blood was pooling, holding it tight against him.

The attacker’s figure was far off, now. I could hear him repeating things, saying something as he walked away, but none of it sounded like it made sense. His vehicle was a little further down the road, past the gate.

A light blue sedan.

“Don’t go anywherenearhim,” Draven murmured at me, looking up at me like he was struggling to even keep his eyes open. “Had a knife. Fucking piece of shit had a knife that wasn’t evensharp?—”

“No, no, no,” I repeated over and over again.

The shirt in my hands started to feel fuller, warmer, heavy with blood. Draven coughed, then groaned as if the cough had hurt him even more.

“The guy told meyou’re not Max, right before he pulled out that… that stupid fucking knife and stabbed me,” Draven said, attempting to laugh. “I told him I’d rip his throat out with my bare hands before I ever let him get to you.”

His body faltered a little on the ground and he collapsed backward, lying down sideways on the dirt instead of being able to sit on his knees anymore.

“Draven,” I pleaded, pressing my shirt back up against his wound.

“I’ll be able to stand up in a minute. Just give me a minute. I’m not letting him get away,” Draven said. His eyes moved from side to side, and he peered up at me for a moment. “You look hot without your shirt on, baby. Do you know I love you?”

He sounded like he was only half-awake, and when he laughed a moment later, it sounded more like a wheezing cough.

I moved to the side and held his head in my free hand, panic giving way to all-out terror.

The blue sedan was taking off at full speed down the road, and Draven was here in my hands, losing blood.

Seeming to loseconsciousness, too.

I fumbled for my phone in my pocket, my hands so shaky and slippery with blood that it fell into the dirt. I picked it up, the screen smudged with a streak of russet blood across the center, trying to swipe it open to call 911.

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