It felt like forever.
Like time sped forward.
It probably wasn't more than two minutes though.
And there was a new noise, a new commotion.
Astrid.
With a goddamn AK-47 strapped around her, and two extra belts of bullets over her shoulder just in case.
And she didn't pause, didn't think, didn't worry about the consequences. She just moved into the scene, pelleting multiple bullets into every man she saw.
Cam made his way around to her, trying to cover her though it was pretty clear she was handling herself just fine.
And me, my gaze sought out Liv.
Who was finally visible, on the ground beside the beam she had disappeared behind with JB.
Wrecked.
She was wrecked.
My stomach twisted at the blood in her eyes, her cheek, coming out from between her lips.
And even as her eyes seemed to be taking in Astrid, brows furrowed in disbelief, an equally wrecked JB came up behind her, cocked his leg back, and slammed it full force into the back of her head.
Out.
She was out.
And I didn't give a flying fuck about any of his men still possibly around.
My body flew upward, arm raising, finger going to the trigger.
And I fucking peppered his body with every bullet I had left, taking a sick sort of satisfaction in the whack of his dead body hitting the ground as I rushed forward, dropping down next to Liv's body, pulling her up into my arms, cradling her too still frame to my chest, taking a long moment to make sure she was breathing before lifting her up, turning.
It was only then that I realized there was silence all around.
That Astrid and Cam had laid waste to what was left of JB's men.
"We need to go," Astrid said, unnecessarily, as sirens drew closer.
I held Liv to my chest.
And we all ran.
It wasn't until we were in the car and out of the neighborhood that any of us seemed capable of drawing a breath.
"Is she okay?"
"I think she's alright. Just unconscious," I said, flicking on the overhead light, draping her body across my lap so I could lift her shirt, check for any other injuries. There was a smattering of red near her ribs, but not alarming enough to make me think anything was busted, pressing into a lung. There were bruises starting up her belly, her arms, her chest. Her hands were torn up. Her lip was split. And the blood in her mouth was likely from a knocked out tooth.
But okay.
She was going to be okay.
"We need to get her home," I said even though, clearly, that was what was on all our minds as Cam seemed to have to focus on doing the speed limit so we didn't get pulled over.
It felt like it took hours before we pulled up to their building, until we could get from the car to the loft, laying a slightly stirring Liv across the foot of her bed, pressing cold compresses to the back, mopping up the blood, swishing witch hazel over all the cuts.
It wasn't until her eyes opened, scanning us like she was seeing us for the first time that I even thought of anyone else in the room.
"You're hit," she said, voice croaking, making me turn to find Cam's shirt slowly soaking through near his side.
"Fuck," I hissed, moving to go toward him when he lifted his shirt to show the small chunk of flesh missing, seeming to try to make me see that it was clean-through, that it wasn't going to kill him.
And it was right then that I started to understand how his girls could decipher his silence. Because he did manage to get a lot across without saying anything.
"Come on, Cam," Astrid said, voice a little shaky as the adrenaline wore off. "Let's get you cleaned up. Roderick can take care of Liv."
With that, we were alone.
"No," I demanded softly when she tried to sit up. "Don't move. Just stay there for a minute. How is your vision?" I asked, watching as she looked around.
"I think it's okay. Why does my head hurt so bad?" she asked, pain clear in her eyes.
"That fuck kicked you in the back of the head, knocking you out."
"Was that before or after I hallucinated Astrid coming in with an AK-47?"
"That wasn't a hallucination, mami. But let's not think about that now, okay? She's okay. Cam's going to be okay. Let's focus on getting you okay."
So that was what we did.NINELiviannaI was usually the one doing the nursing.
Sure, Cam had fished a bullet out of me, had helped me clean wounds when I hadn't been able to reach them myself. But he hadn't been the cold-compress-holding, hot-soup-delivering, check-on-you-every-five-minutes kind of person.
Roderick, it seemed, was that kind of person.
Every time I started awake that first night, he was right there, off the side of the bed, on the bed with me, soothing me back to sleep, handing me pain medicine, slathering on triple antibiotic.