Just as I open my eyes, blinking through the tears to try and seek out Killian, there’s another explosion. An audible pop fills the room with light so bright I’m blinded, and a sound so loud I’m consumed by the fire in my face and a ringing that ceases to end.
Is this…. death?
33
CARA
The ringing pierces right to my core, weaving into my skeleton as I press my free hand over my ear and screw up my eyes against the blinding light. Beneath the thundering beats of my heart, bile creeps up my throat and my teeth clack together, unable to calm the rampant terror that explodes through my body.
We’re all going to die.
And yet, when I dare to open my eyes again, the world before me moves in slow motion.
The light has cleared enough for me to make out faces through the smoke. Dante’s in the doorway, his rifle ablaze and flanked by Cain and Declan. There’s another man with thick muscles and tattoos on his hands with them. Time sludges past me in a way I almost see each individual bullet as it leaves their guns and heads toward the Russian targets.
The ringing continues and as I blink slowly, Killian is racing towards me. His eyes are wide, the storm within reaching its churning peak, and his mouth moves wildly though no words reach my ears. As he moves, each step somehow incredibly slow, blood seeps across his right side and spreads, staining the crisp white of his t-shirt.
Then he’s on me, lips moving but there’s nothing audible to me. Killian drapes over me like a weighted blanket, covering me and the chair completely with his body and wrapping his large arms around my head to protect me from everything that’s flying around the room.
It’s unclear how long we stay like this, bodies awkwardly bent around the wood and heat passing between us like quiet reassurance. Finally, after what seems like forever, his deep voice reaches my ear in a whisper so close that the shivers counteract the tremble in my soul.
“You’re okay,” he says. “I’m here, you’re okay.”
His words are my anchor as the world around us begins to calm and the ringing in my ears fades to Blair screaming at the top of her lungs. This too eventually tapers off and when Killian finally climbs off my body, the room is quiet.
An ache pulses steadily through my skull, joining with the throb blooming across my jaw from the blow. Killian moves swiftly and before I know it, my ankles are free and he scoops me up from the chair. Taking a few steps, he places me down on the kitchen counter and immediately crowds me, his hands touching and feeling everywhere he can think to touch.
“Killian—,” I try, the words thick in my mouth. He cups my jaw and swipes his thumb under my lower lip. The urge to swallow rises, but nothing but blood runs down my throat, the copper tang twisting my face into a wince. Killian’s thumb pauses its touch immediately and when I glance up at him, nothing but worry swims in the storm there.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, reaching up to grasp his wrists. The contact burns hot against my palms, a touch I feared I’d never have again. Even as people mill about the lounge, nothing else in the world matters except this moment between me and him, seeking the reassurance we desire. He detects my injury immediately, eyes so angry they’re almost black and he gently takes my hand and opens my palm to reveal the burn from the muzzle flash.
I hadn’t realized the burning I had felt when the guard fired had been an actual wound.
Fuck.
“I’m…” Killian begins deeply, “sofuckingsorry.”
He kisses my palm lightly, then lifts his hands and continues to cradle my face, his eyes darting back and forth as he studies every single detail on my face. Then he tilts my head to the side to further examine the blossoming bruise from the kick. He swallows audibly, likely trying to control his rage before we’re eye to eye once more. There’s a beat, then the rough pad of his thumb skims over the raw bruise forming and I can’t hold back another wince.
“This was me,” I whisper, “they followed me. This was me, not you. I led them to us.”
“Shut up,” he instructs with a soft bark, shaking his head. Every breath fills my senses with his spice and the metallic tang of blood and sweat. A desire to be closer surges through me and I reach for his shirt, curling my fingers into the damp material.
Wait… I had seen blood…
“Killian,” I begin but he hushes me with a soft, brief kiss.
My words mean little to him and his lips part as he pulls away, perhaps to say more when Dante appears at his shoulder and lays a hand there. Killian recoils immediately, turning with fury in his eyes until Dante indicates down toward his shirt.
“Killian, you’re hurt.”
In the time it takes for the doctor to arrive, Sienna has calmed Blair enough to get a full sentence out of her, and Cain and Declan have rushed Archer to the hospital. Seeing him in that state nurses the guilt in my gut. He gained those injuries trying to protect me from monsters thatIled to our very door.
Will he forgive me?
“Cara…”
Killian’s warm lips against my forehead draw me from my concerns about Archer and my gaze flickers up to where he stares down at me much softer than before. The adrenaline has started to fade and Killian now stands topless before me with the family doctor stitching up the bullet graze across his ribs. Nothing serious, thank God but it is the first time I’ve come face to face with the family doctor. The doctor tended to the burn on my hand, coating it in a salve and wrapping it up. Now it’s as if I’m wearing a very thick single mitten.