“Good. That’s good.” She was cutting away his shirt now, her movements quick and efficient, the pressure of her hand steady despite the chaos around them. “We need to move you. Can you stand?”
Dom tried again, leaning heavily on Tessa and Vivi as they helped him to his feet. The warehouse swam in his vision, the concrete floor seeming to ripple like water. “I’m good,” he lied, because that’s what you said when you were bleeding out, and there were still threats to neutralize.
“You’re not,” Vivi snapped, her arm around his waist, taking more of his weight than someone her size should have been able to manage.
Through the gray fog creeping across his vision, Dom saw Elliot appear beside them. His brother’s face was tight with concern as he ducked under Dom’s good arm, taking his weight from Vivi.
“Car’s waiting,” Elliot said. “Davey’s covering our exit. Liam’s got eyes on the perimeter.”
Dom’s legs were getting heavier, his steps clumsy as they guided him toward the door. He forced himself to focus on the mission parameters—Sabin secured, extraction route clear, team accounted for. That was what mattered. Not the burning in his shoulder or the weakness in his knees or the way the world kept sliding sideways every time he blinked.
“Raines?” he managed to ask.
“Gone,” Elliot replied, his voice grim. “Slipped out during the first wave. But we’ve got what we came for.”
Sabin. They had Sabin. That was what mattered.
The cool night air hit Dom’s face as they emerged from the warehouse, and he gulped it in, desperate for something to clear his head. The extraction vehicle—a nondescript panel van—waited twenty yards away, its side door already open. Griffin and Weston had Sabin inside, the unconscious man secured to a stretcher. Bridger was at the wheel, engine running.
“Almost there,” Elliot murmured, tightening his grip as Dom stumbled. “Just a few more steps, bro.”
Dom tried to nod, but his head felt too heavy. The gray haze was spreading, darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision. He was vaguely aware of being helped into the van, of Tessa’s hands working quickly to stabilize him for transport, of Vivi’s face hovering above his, her lips moving though he couldn’t quite make out the words.
He tried to tell her it was okay. That he’d been shot before. That this wasn’t even the worst one. But his tongue felt thick in his mouth, and all he managed was a slurred, “S’fine.”
The van’s engine roared, and they were moving, the motion making his stomach lurch. Tessa was doing something to his shoulder that hurt like a bastard, and her face swam in and outof focus above him as the van rattled over uneven ground. She was saying something about blood pressure and tourniquets.
“How’s Sabin?” he managed to ask, the words scraping his dry throat.
“Sedated,” Tessa replied, not looking up from her work. “Stable. Worry about yourself for once.”
Dom turned his head, searching for Vivi. She was kneeling beside her brother on the opposite side of the van, her hand wrapped around Sabin’s, her face set in lines of fierce determination. She must have felt his gaze because she looked up, her eyes meeting his across the cramped space.
“You idiot,” she said, but there was no heat in it, just a tremor that betrayed how close she was to breaking. “You absolute idiot.”
He tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “Had to...maintain my reputation.”
The van hit a pothole, and pain tore through his shoulder, sharp enough to white out his vision for a moment. When it cleared, Tessa was above him again, her gloved hands red with his blood.
“Keep talking, Dom,” she ordered.
“Bossy,” he muttered.
“Family trait,” Elliot said from somewhere near his head. His brother’s hand rested on his good shoulder, a solid anchor as the world continued to slip and slide around him.
The van slowed, then made a sharp turn that sent another bolt of agony through his shoulder. He bit down on a groan, tasting copper at the back of his throat.
“Almost there,” Davey’s voice came from the front. “Tessa, how is he?”
“Losing too much blood,” she replied, her voice tight. “We need to get him to the extraction point now.”
Extraction point. That meant they were heading for the small airstrip where the company jet would be waiting. WSW didn’t leave its people behind, and they didn’t trust local hospitals when Praetorian was involved.
Dom tried to focus on that—on the familiar rhythm of an extraction, on the protocols his family had drilled into him since he was old enough to carry a weapon—but the darkness was creeping in faster now, the voices around him becoming distant and muffled.
“Dom.” Vivi’s voice cut through the fog. She’d moved to his side and cupped his face in her hands. “Stay awake.”
He blinked hard, forcing his eyes to focus on her face. “Trying.”