I took out the saline tubes, grimacing at the pain I was going to cause. "This is going to hurt."
He nodded, jaw set. "Do what you need to do."
Jackson talked me through the cleaning process with gritted teeth, occasionally hissing when I hit a particularly sensitive spot. I worked as gently as possible, but his knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the table.
Once I'd bandaged him up, he leaned back, exhaustion and pain evident on his face. "I'd almost kill for a drink right now. Painkillers aren't exactly an option."
"I'm sorry," I said, guilt washing over me. "For all of this."
His expression softened. "Don't be. You jumping in, saying I had to be alive for leverage, handling my wound—you probably saved my life several times."
And shooting a man dead.
"Don't thank me yet," I replied, attempting a smile. "You have to survive the night first."
"If I don't," he said, holding my gaze, "I'm still glad you stepped in. I've seen trained soldiers freeze up in situations like this."
Which I had done, several times. It had just been that inner voice that had forced me to move when I really needed to.
Ivy, who'd been silently watching from the corner, suddenly snorted. "So Elena did get laid tonight too then, 'cause this is some mushy bullshit."
The unexpected comment broke the tension, and we all burst into chuckles, Jackson wincing as the movement jarred his wound.
Maybe it was the waning adrenaline, or the craziness of this situation, but the chuckles and soft laughs were much needed right now.
It was the only way we were going to get through this.
17
JACKSON
Ivy's voice hitched as she tried the basement light switch, standing in the doorway of it at the edge of the kitchen. She had flicked it several times to no avail. "This is how every horror movie starts, Elena. No lights. No backup. Just two dumb girls and a basement."
"You'll be fine," I said, shifting my wounded leg on the kitchen chair.
"Besides, we have backup," Elena said, glancing my way. "He's here."
Ivy scoffed. "He's wounded and can't come running down a flight of stairs on that leg."
Elena didn't respond, but I heard her dry reply moments later once she began her descent. Something about canned peaches not being haunted. I almost smiled. Almost.
The floor creaked above me as they disappeared down the stairs. I kept my hand near the gun on the kitchen table, every muscle tight, listening for anything that didn't sound like them.
When they came back, Ivy had a handful of cans balanced in her hands, while Elena was carrying what looked like blankets.
Elena's eyes met mine, concern etched into the lines around her mouth.
"We found blankets," she said softly.
Great, because I was freezing, not that I'd admit it.
"I'm not sure if I'm starving enough to eat any of this canned shit," Ivy muttered.
"Maybe your ghost will uber us something in ghost carriage," Elena muttered, and I managed a weak smile. Sleep was begging to claim me, but with my blood loss and the pain in my leg, I wasn't willing to trust I wouldn't wake back up.
The two women needed my help getting away from here. I was sure Alfeo was working alone, but I couldn't ease that niggling feeling that someone might come looking for him, and if they found him dead, we'd be next.
But leaving a body outside this deep in the woods, I had a feeling something might drag him off. If we were lucky.
