He blinked up at the sky, watching the last of the violet fade to black.
“So this is how they’ll find me,” he whispered, voice ragged.
It wasn’t the men in black coats who arrived.
First it was just more silence, broken by the wind rustling branches overhead. Then a distant rumble of an engine.
Headlights stabbed through the trees.
He tried to turn his head and the world spun sickeningly. Pain pulsed behind his eyes.
The vehicle slowed, tires crunching gravel.
A battered old pickup truck wheezed to a stop at the side of the road. Doors slammed, and boots thumped the ground.
He heard cursing.
“Jesus Christ—are you fucking kidding me?”
A woman’s voice. Sharp, exasperated, almost furious.
He tried to focus. His vision doubled and tripled, settling on a shape moving toward him.
Red hair. Tied up in a messy bun. Scrubs under a flannel shirt. She looked like she’d just walked out of an emergency room and into hell without blinking.
She knelt beside him with a grunt, pressing two fingers to his neck.
“Pulse,” she muttered. “Good. That’s something.”
He tried to speak but blood bubbled at his lips.
“Don’t move,” she snapped. “Don’t you fucking move.”
Victor blinked slowly. Her face hovered inches above his. Freckles across the bridge of her nose. Sharp green eyes that didn’t soften for him.
“Look at me,” she ordered.
He tried. The world kept tilting.
“Stay awake. Stay the fuck awake.”
He coughed again, a wet sound.
“Shit.” She slapped his cheek lightly. “Talk to me.”
“Bike…” he rasped.
“Yeah, I see it. It’s a goddamn paperweight now.” She leaned back, glancing at the wreck. “You crash trying to be cool or just naturally stupid?”
He would’ve laughed if he could breathe.
Instead he sucked in another jagged breath, and white-hot pain shot through his ribs. He let out a strangled groan.
She turned back, eyes narrowing. “Where does it hurt?”
“Every…where,” he managed.
“Fantastic.” She didn’t even roll her eyes. She was too busy assessing him, fingers pressing along his ribs. He nearly blacked out when she hit a broken spot.
