Adrian's face is tight with pain, but he doesn't make a sound.
Victor looks at me and then nods. "Let's go."
We move toward the front door, stepping over bodies, broken glass crunching beneath our feet.
The cold air hits me the moment we step outside, biting through my thin clothes, but I don't stop.
The Rolls-Royce is still parked in the driveway, untouched.
Victor opens the back door and helps Adrian inside. I run around and get in on the other side. I toss the bag onto the floor and immediately press my hands back against his shoulder.
Adrian hisses through his teeth, his head falling back against the seat.
"I know, I know," I whisper. "I'm sorry, but you're supposed to apply pressure, I think."
Victor slides into the driver's seat and floors it.
The tires spin in the snow before finding traction and then the car jumps forward.
Adrian is shaking and I realize it's probably because he's half naked.
I rip open the bag, pulling out a jacket to wrap around him.
"Lean forward so I can put this on you," I tell Adrian.
He shoots air out of his nose, but he does and I wrap the jacket around him. I then pull out some sweatpants that he has.
"I'm going to put these on. I don't want you being cold," I say and start putting his foot through the legs.
"You sound like my grandma," he says, lifting his leg. "Too cold and you'll get sick and die."
I roll my eyes. "Shut up and give me your other leg."
He does and I shimmy the pants on him and pull them up, my face now close to his.
"You're doing good," Adrian says, his voice quieter now.
"Please, I don't know what I'm doing," I say just as Victor takes a corner so fast I'm thrown against Adrian.
He grunts, his hand gripping my arm to steady me.
"Sorry about that," I say.
"Don't be, it's my brother's reckless driving," he says, the last part of the sentence loud enough for Victor to hear.
"Uh, one, fuck you, and two, we'll be at the airport in forty five minutes. They'll have some med stuff on board. Don't die before then."
Adrian nods. "Okay, I'll wait until after."
"You guys. This isn't funny," I say and lean back. "Has the bleeding stopped?"
"I think so," he says.
"Okay," I say and look down at my hands. They're a deep crimson color. Adrian's dried blood coats my fingers. I flex my fingers, seeing the subtle cracks appear.
Just like everything recently, it all just seems so unreal.
Eventually, we reach the small airport in what feels like seconds and hours all at once.