Page 34 of Brutal Unionn
“Shh,” I whisper, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “We’ve got company. Stay quiet.”
Her lashes flutter. Her fingers twitch against my chest.
She’s still with me.
“We’re getting out of here,” I promise her as I lift her again. My ribs feel like shattered glass, but I grit through the pain. My arms lock around her, holding her like something precious I refuse to lose.
The voices are louder now. Commanding. Sharp. Barking in Korean just beyond the hallway. I hear boots slam debris aside.
I press forward, hunched low, shielding her with my body as I move through the charred remains of the kitchen.
“Where can I go, Nadia?” I whisper into her blood-matted hair, voice nearly broken. “Tell me where to go.”
“Back… way…” she rasps.
I don’t hesitate.
The stairwell door is warped and half-melted, but intact. I slam into it with my shoulder. It creaks, groans, and gives.
We descend—fast, silent, one stair at a time. Her body clings to me, unconscious again, blood soaking my chest.
At the bottom, I slam through the alley door, stumbling into cold night air.
Sirens howl. Firelight dances along the alley walls in strobes. But it’s not over. Not yet.
I crouch beside her, press her back to the wall gently. She lets out a low moan, one arm clutching her stomach.
That’s when I see the gash.
“Fuck.”
Her abdomen is torn wide open. A deep wound—red and glistening, leaking in heavy pulses down her thighs. Her shirt is saturated, sticking to her skin like wet paper.
I lean back and yank my shirt over my head in one swift motion, the fabric sticking to the blood already drying on my ribs. The alley air hits my bare skin, sharp with smoke and ash, but I barely feel it. All I can feel is the waning heat coming off of Nadia’s shaking body.
Her gaze lifts to me, slow and unsteady. She blinks once, twice—eyes glazed but locked on me.
“Are you picking now to strip for me?” she slurs as I rip my shirt into makeshift bandages.
I smirk despite the adrenaline crashing through my veins. “What can I say? Thought I’d give you something pretty to look at in case I die.”
Her eyes drift down my torso, slow and shameless despite the blood in her mouth. “I’ve seen you more naked than this, Sho.”
“Yeah, but not while heroically wrapping your wounds. That has to be worth a few points.”
I twist the shirt into a knot and hold it between my teeth. The flames are close enough to lick up my backside, but I ignore the burn and try to make eye contact with Nadia as her head droops off to the side. My hand cups underneath her chin, while my other hand pinches her chin. “Come on, Nadia. Stay up for me.”
The wound is gushing like some divine wine—dark and relentless—coating my thighs, drenching the shredded remains of her white t-shirt, and staining my bare chest with each trembling breath she takes. Blood pulses between my fingers, warm and slick, running through the cracks in my hands like she’s spilling out faster than I can hold her in.
Around us, the building groans like a dying beast. The fire roars louder.
But it's the sound behind it all that tightens like a wire around my throat—thevoices.
Sharp, clipped commands in Korean, thrown out in a rhythm that suggests impatience, irritation,certainty. Debris crashes to the floor inside the apartment we just fled. Walls buckle under the force of bodies tearing through them. They’re getting closer.Fast.
Too fucking fast.
“Shit—fuck—” My voice is nothing more than a whisper choked by smoke. I glance down. The blood is still coming. Not slowing. My hand presses harder into her stomach.
