“No,” Robbie answers, and despite his gruff tone, I can tell he’s being honest with me. “I don’t think he came in this direction.” He tugs on Lenny’s hand, encouraging her to move. “Come on. We need to get moving.”
“Be careful,” I call to their retreating backs.
“You too,” Lenny says to me, her voice soft.
Robbie doesn’t respond.
I just pray they find a way out of here.
Or survive the next forty-five minutes.
I watch them go with a leaden, sinking feeling deep in my chest.
Finally, I turn back to my guys and whisper, “Let’s go.”
We do.
24
DOMINIC
Ellie’s limping.
She’s trying not to let us see, but it’s impossible for me not to.
“Are you hurt?” I demand, grabbing her shoulder to spin her around. Gently, though. If she is hurt, I don’t want to exacerbate any injuries she may have.
“I’m fine.” She tries to wiggle her way free. “We need to get moving. We need to find Reece.”
“Princesa.” Zane moves to her back, his hands hovering over her shoulders, then lowering to her arms.
I take the opportunity to study her from head to toe, searching for any injuries. What the hell happened?
“Seriously, I’m fine,” Ellie insists. She reaches down to pull up her dress, and I notice a tiny gash bisecting the skin on her thigh. Blood drips to the ground below.
Horror engulfs me.
“When the fuck did that happen?” I immediately search for something to stop the bleeding.
“I have no idea. Probably during the fight. To be honest, I only just noticed it now.” She shrugs helplessly, even as her brow creases with pain.
“Adrenaline,” Beckett explains, stepping forward and holding a piece of his shirt he must’ve ripped. He lowers himself to his knees beside her and tenderly, almost reverently, dabs at the cut on her leg. He bites down on his lower lip as he concentrates on the task at hand. “It doesn’t look too deep.” This is said more for our benefit than hers.
“I told you I’m fine,” Ellie stresses.
“You need to tell us if you’re hurt,” Zane snaps. For once, he doesn’t sound like his usual jovial, psychotic self. A corrosive mixture of panic, horror, anger, and fear darkens his brown eyes. “If we lose you…” He doesn’t finish that thought. Even thinking it is too horrible.
If we lose her, we’ll lose ourselves.
The precarious hold we have on sanity will slip through our fingers, and we’ll truly become the beasts that newspapers claim we are.
Monsters.
Sadists.
Serial killers.
Every person in this world will die.