Page 137 of Deceptive Games
How much blood had I lost? I didn’t even know how bad it was.
After the second time I almost went down, I cursed and tried to find somewhere to stash my bike, finding a bushy park area that I could pull in behind and switch the bike off.
I bailed from the bike and made sure it was hidden well, before yanking my helmet off and leaving it with the bike so I could run better. This was the good side of Ashburn Valley, so even if someone found it, it wasn’t likely they’d do anything to it.
I was panting after a couple of streets, keeping out of view as I stumbled along fences and gardens, my eyes landing on a familiar house.
If I showed up at Rory’s house, it would be game over, the rich pricks and the Psychos would know instantly, but I didn’t exactly have another option.
Decision made, I started running towards it, praying Skeeter wasn’t there to shoot me on arrival.
Rory
I slept for a few hours before Jensen woke me, apologizing for having to leave, but Lukas and his mom had been fighting again, so he had to go to Lukas and talk him off the ledge. I wanted to stay in bed, but I forced myself to get up so he could drop me off at home on his way, giving them space.
Lukas had called Jensen, not me, so I needed to respect that.
Caden was out with Tyler, and I found a note from Josie in the kitchen, apologizing for upsetting me earlier and to let me know she’d been called away for an emergency meeting, meaning I had the house to myself for the night.
Once I’d had a hot shower and something to eat, I got comfortable in the theater room with a movie, intending on having a chilled night at home. So I was surprised to hear banging on the front door not long after.
The banging continued as I walked through the house, and I was starting to think it was a damn cop until I swung the door open to find Hunter on the other side.
He was pale, blood soaking his shirt where a noticeable bullet hole was in his jacket, and he winced as he met my gaze.
“Sorry, I didn’t know where else to go. I had to ditch my bike.”
“What the fuck happened?” I asked, keeping the door blocked. If this had anything to do with the Psychos, I couldn’t exactly let him in.
“We got caught up in the beef between the Reapers and Demons,” he stated, looking like he was about to fall over. “Please, I just need to patch this and I can leave. The cops were on my ass, so?—”
If Skeeter found out about this, he’d go ballistic, but I couldn’t exactly leave the man bleeding out on the doorstep.
I swung the door open and relief filled his face as he stepped inside, and I made sure to lock the door before motioning to the stairs. “My bathroom. You know where it is, stalker.”
I knew it was bad when I had to help him up the stairs, his jaw tight as he sat on the edge of my tub and I helped him peel his jacket off.
“Fucking hell,” he growled, managing to get his shirt off so he could try and inspect his injury. It was bad, blood still leaking from the wound and making me panic slightly.
“What do I do?” I asked, grabbing medical supplies out of the cupboard.
His inner forearm tattoos looked like robot arms, the skin being made out to be torn to show mechanics underneath, and burning feathers were scattered down both his upper arms and outer forearms, the flames bright with color.
The bullet had missed his ink, so he was lucky there.
“Is there an exit wound?” he asked, and I peeked over his shoulder to look at his back, seeing another wound that did slightly damage a tattoo.
His whole back was covered in the Devil’s Armada logo, the burning pirate ship bright with flames as the torn sails kept the ship moving.“Devil’s Armada”was written across one side close to the front, just like it was on their jackets.
“Looks like it.”
“Good. I need to stop the bleeding. A towel or something.” I grabbed a towel from the shelf and offered it to him, but he shook his head. “I can’t reach behind me properly. Press it against the wound firmly.”
Taking the towel, I moved to stand beside him and made the towel reach both wounds, trying to put pressure on both.
Hesitation filled me when he growled out a curse, but he shook his head.
“Harder. Don’t worry about hurting me.” When I did as instructed, he blew out a breath. “Good girl. Hold it there for me. We’ll patch it when it slows. If it needs stitches, I’ll deal with it back at home.”
