Page 34 of Alaric

Had he even done the gun thing to me?

Had I imagined that?

What was wrong with me?

“Miss?” the cop prompted.

“Three men were getting in the elevator,” I said.

“Can you describe these men?”

“I… not really. One was bald. And he had black and red tattoos. Big. He was big.”

“Big as in tall? Muscular? Heavyset?”

“Tall,” I clarified. That much I knew. He seemed to take up half of the elevator. “And… both?” I said, brows scrunching. “He had big arms, but he was… thicker,” I said, trying to make sense of my memories.

“And the other men?” he prompted.

“I… I didn’t get a good look at them. Not as tall. And they both had hair. Dark brown. That’s… that’s all.”

“Have you ever seen these men before?” the kinder, more fatherly cop, asked.

“No. No,” I said more firmly, sure of that fact, at least.

Yes, there were a lot of guys in and out of Kylo’s apartment, but I would have remembered the bald guy.

There were more questions, more pressing that made me second-guess every answer I’d already given them.

Finally, I was allowed to go back across the hallway.

I felt oddly numb until I walked into my apartment, until I dropped my ass down onto the couch.

Then it was like all the adrenaline drained at once.

My entire body started to shake. And the tears that I’d managed to hold in while talking to the police started all over again when I looked down at my hands and legs, seeing myself covered in Kylo’s blood.

Kylo.

They’d been quick to get him on the stretcher, and I’d heard cursing and groaning at the movement. But by the time they strapped him in and started to roll him away, his eyes had been closed.

But his chest had been rising and falling. Right?

But he’d been so pale. Ashen, really.

Could someone survive that much blood loss?

Even if they could give him a transfusion, he’d need surgery. To get out the bullets. To repair any internal damage.

I didn’t even know how many of those bullets had lodged in his body. At least two. But it could have been more. I hadn’t even thought to try to lift up his shirt to see.

I wasn’t sure I could have stomached that.

But my brain seemed fully capable of conjuring up images that may or may not have been close to reality.

He had to have been so scared.

When he’d been bound to the chair.

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