Headlights blazed. A van swung across the alley mouth, tyres screaming. She froze, her heart hammering, but then the door slid open, and a woman leaned out with a rifle shouting, “In!”
The stranger shoved her forward, boosting her into the van before climbing after. Hands grabbed her, steadying her, then him. Strangers’ faces swam into view: one solid as stone, one grinning with unnerving calm, one sharp-eyed with a weapon ready.
“What the hell are you doing here?” the stranger rasped.
The largest of them clapped his shoulder. “You’re family, Watchdog. And family always knows when one of their own needs them.”
Watchdog, she’d heard it over the radio, but it hit different.
The name snapped through her like a crack of thunder. Her breath hitched, horror dawning. Whoever he was, whatever this was, it had a name, and they knew him by it.
The van lurched, throwing her sideways. The stranger steadied her automatically, his touch burning even through her panic.
“Well, mate,” the one with the grin said, voice sardonic, “looks like you’re in deep shit now. Snatching brides in the middle of the night? Even for you, that’s a new one.”
“Bás is going to kill you before he even asks questions,” the woman added flatly.
His reply was ragged. “He can get in line.”
The banter snapped around her like gunfire, incomprehensible, surreal. Clara curled tighter against the seat, hugging her arms to herself, unable to stop shaking.
Then the stone-solid one spoke again, his tone suddenly sharp. “Watchdog. You’re bleeding.”
Clara’s gaze jerked down and saw it. The dark bloom spreading across his shirt, the wet gleam of blood seeping through his side. Her breath caught in a broken gasp, a hand clamping over her mouth.
He blinked at the stain as though noticing it for the first time. “Oh,” he said softly, almost wryly. “That explains it.”
He slumped sideways, heavy and sudden, his head lolling against her shoulder. Clara froze, her breath stuck in her throat, her body stiff under the weight of him. Terror spiked through her chest, her heart stuttering as the van sped deeper into the night with strangers, with guns, with the man who had stolen her, and was now bleeding out beside her. Warmth seeped through her sleeve, and she realised it wasn’t just sweat, it was blood, hot and slick and far too much.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, panic rising sharp in her chest. “He needs a hospital. He’s… he’s bleeding out!”
The others were already moving, fast but not frantic. The one with the easy grin was suddenly at his side, tearing openhis jacket and shirt, pressing something firm against the wound. “I’ve got him. Pressure’s holding. He’s not done yet.”
The big one behind the wheel didn’t even look back, his deep Scottish accent steady. “We’re getting him clear. Hang on.”
Clear? Away? Her pulse pounded in her ears. “You don’t understand, he needs real doctors, he needs an emergency room! He’ll die if…”
The woman, dark-haired and sharp-eyed, shifted closer, her voice cutting through to calm Clara’s panic. “He’ll get care. We’ve got him.”
Clara shook her head, words tumbling out before she could stop them. “Who the hell are you people?” Her voice cracked, fear edging high and brittle.
The woman crouched slightly, hands visible, palms open as if Clara were the wild thing here. “Lotus,” she said simply. “That’s Reaper, and Bein is driving.”
Clara backed further into the corner of the seat, pressing her knees to her chest, every muscle tight, but she gave a nod to each person as they greeted her in turn.
Lotus’s gaze flicked down. “Your feet.”
Clara blinked, startled.
“You’re bleeding,” Lotus said quietly. “Glass and dirty asphalt on bare skin is a recipe for germs. Let me clean them before infection sets in.”
Clara’s throat tightened. She glanced at the man, Watchdog, they’d called him Watchdog, slumped and unconscious beside her, Reaper’s steady hands keeping pressure on his side, his chest rising and falling shallow but sure.
Lotus’s voice softened, though the steel never left it. “He’ll be fine. Reaper knows what he’s doing. Bein’s taking us out of the city, into the countryside. Someplace safe. That’s all you need to know.”
Clara swallowed hard, her mind a storm. Safe? With these people? With the man who had broken into her home and stolen her into the night?
“Please?” Lotus tried again, a breath slipping out, almost a sigh of relief when Clara finally gave the smallest of nods. “Good. I’d hate to piss off Watchdog by letting you bleed out after he’s gone to so much trouble to take you.”
