Chapter 84: Deeper Into the Dark
LEONARDO ANNISON
Oliver’s blood smelled like copper and gunpowder, that metallic tang mixing with the damp earth scent of the rotting cabin. I pressed the bandage harder against his arm, watching his jaw clench as the fabric bit into torn flesh. The lamplight flickered across his face, catching the sweat beading along his hairline and the unnatural pallor of his skin beneath the golden glow.
"Christ, Annison," he hissed through clenched teeth. "You could at least buy me dinner first."
I didn’t dignify that with a response, just tightened the knot with a sharp tug. His blood had already soaked through three layers of gauze. Too much. Too fast.
Charles groaned from the moth-eaten couch, his breathing wet and labored. The bullet had gone through his shoulder clean, but he’d lost enough blood to make his movements sluggish. "They’ll have trackers," he muttered, his good hand fumbling with his phone. "Should’ve been here by now."
Oliver stiffened beside me. "Who’s ’they’ exactly?"
I kept my voice flat. "People who don’t want you dead."
"That narrows it down." Oliver tried to laugh but it came out strangled. His fingers trembled where they gripped the armrest, the usual steady hands of a pianist now shaking like a junkie in withdrawal. Shock setting in.
The realization sent ice through my veins. I’d seen men die from less. Watched as the light left their eyes while I stood helpless—
No. Not again.
I grabbed Oliver’s chin, forcing him to meet my gaze. His pupils were too wide, the normally vibrant green of his irises nearly swallowed by black. "Stay with me."