Her eyes are closed, her skin pale – too pale.
Not dead though. I can feel her through the bond. I’d know if she were dead, wouldn’t I? I’d feel it.
“Rhi?” I choke. “Rhianna?”
She doesn’t answer me and I lift her into my arms and cradle her against my chest. Her body flops lifelessly, but she’s warm and I can feel her heart beating.
“Fuck, Rhi!” I choke.
I sense someone slump onto the ground next to me and then someone else.
“Azlan?” my cousin says, his voice trembling. “Please … please tell me she’s not–”
“Alive,” I whisper, stroking her hair from her face and kissing her soft cheek. There’s a gash on her forehead, blood trailing down her face and her arm hangs in a grotesque manner. I don’t think those are the cause of this though. “Something’s wrong. Something’s not right. We need a doctor. We need a doctor right now!” I yank my gaze away from my mate and swing it around, hoping against hope bysome miracle there’ll be a doctor standing right there. There isn’t, just Tristan and Spencer kneeling beside me. Neither of them look in good shape. Spencer – completely naked – hugs his side like his ribs are broken and Tristan’s mouth is full of blood, his clothes caked in it too.
“Let me see her, Azlan,” Tristan says. I hug my mate tighter to my body. I’m not letting her go. I’m never letting her go again. “I can heal her,” he tells me.
I scoff. “There’s something seriously wrong with her. We need a trained healer, a professional.”
“I can do it, Azlan,” Tristan says softly, reaching for her.
I shake my head.
“He’s a skilled healer.” Spencer pats his friend’s shoulder. “Trust me, I should know. He’s patched me up innumerable times. Let him see her, Azlan.”
I peer into Moreau’s eyes and then my cousin’s. I can see how concerned they both are, how much they care about Rhianna as well.
Though it pains me, though I never want to let her go, I know I have to. I lay her down carefully, and immediately my cousin casts his hand over the wound on her head and her crooked arm, mending them both, before bending closer to inspect her.
I turn my head away and catch sight of the crumpled form of my uncle five paces away from us. I drag myself up onto my feet and stalk towards him.
He’s still alive.
I reach down and fist the scruff of his robe, yanking him towards me.
“What the hell did you do?! What the hell did you do to her?!” I yell in his face.
He’s barely conscious from my blast, his eyes spinning in and out of focus. I draw back my fist and punch him hard inthe face, feeling the bone of his nose snap beneath my knuckles. Then I hit him again. “I said, what did you do to her, you piece of shit?” I punch him again and again, over and over, feeling skin split, blood spill, teeth crack. I don’t care. I don’t give a shit.
“Az! That’s enough,” Stone says from behind me.
I freeze. My friend lands his hand on my shoulder.
I blink, the bloodied, messy face of my uncle coming back into focus. I push him away from me.
“Rhianna,” I say, spinning back around.
“She’s going to be okay, man.”
I collapse forward, into his arms, sobbing with fucking relief. He squeezes me tight.
“I thought we’d lost her,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says, gripping the back of my neck. “I know. But we didn’t. Come on, they’re taking her up to the mansion.”
I sniff, taking a moment to pull myself back together, then I step away from my oldest friend and point down to the wrecked form of my uncle.
“What are we going to do with him?”