Eli stood in the bed of the truck, stuffing his legs in his jeans and glaring down at a mass by his feet.
I gasped when I recognized what it was, setting the jeans to the side and heaving myself into the truck bed.
Isaac was a mangled mess—ten times worse than how I found him before. His skin was caked in blood, his eyes swollen shut.
“Isaac?” I whispered, not daring to touch him.
He groaned, his hand lifting and falling back to the truck bed.
“Help me get him dressed. We need to get out of here.”
I grabbed the jeans from the side of the truck, sliding them carefully over his legs. Even with the gentle movement—Eli lifting one knee, then the other—Isaac hissed in pain.
“I’m sorry,” I said, tears falling freely. “I’m so sorry, Isaac.”
“I’m fine.” Isaac moved his head, searching for me blindly. He tried to smile, his lip bleeding profusely. “You should see the other guy.”
I met Eli’s eyes. He looked worried.
“Hang on for me. We’ll be home soon,” he said.
Isaac didn’t respond. He barely moaned as Eli lifted him into the backseat, gingerly reaching across his lap to fasten a seatbelt.
I climbed in beside him, putting my arm around his neck to cradle his head.
“What do we do?” I asked hoarsely, failing to hold onto my composure.
“We go back to the bayou. He can heal there.”
The truck engine started, Eli holding the wheel with one hand. The other stretched across to the passenger seat to rest on Cady’s thigh.
“It helps if you touch him,” she told me softly, resting her hand on top of Eli’s.
I scooped his bruised hand up in mine, carefully brushing my thumb over the knuckles.
“Where’s Saul?” Cady asked, looking at the road behind us.
“He was being stubborn about leaving. He’ll find us when he’s ready.”
The wheels of the truck bumped over the edge of the road. Our pace was fast, but not so fast it would draw attention. Fifty-five miles an hour never felt so slow, the road stretching before us endlessly.
Isaac needed help. I knew we couldn’t take him to a hospital. How did you explain these kinds of injuries? And what if he woke up, eyes glowing, and tried to bite the nearest doctor?
Brakes squealed as the truck lurched to a stop. I threw my body in front of Isaac’s, bracing him. He flopped heavily onto me, barely breathing.
This was bad. So bad. The bayou wasn’t going to help him. Nothing was going to help him. I righted him in his seat, smoothing the seatbelt across his chest.
A figure was standing twenty feet in front of the truck, shaggy hair illuminated by the headlights. My heart still hadn’t come down, jumping rapidly in my throat as I realized we were in for another fight.
But Eli didn’t react, hand still resting calmly on Cady’s thigh. She clicked open the glovebox, tugging out a pair of jeans. The door to the backseat opened, Saul climbed in beside me.
He accepted the jeans from Cady with a grunt that might have been gratitude, slipping them on awkwardly in the small space as Eli resumed the drive.
Silver-blue eyes snapped to me, studying me as I curled protectively around Isaac. As if I could protect him from any of this.
“Eli,” Saul said, still looking at me, “drive faster.”
Drive faster.