Blood runs down his left side. I think he landed on a jagged rock when we tumbled out of the transport, and the wound is bleeding freely, dark against the fabric of his shirt.
My kit is in the transport vehicle. My sedative is in the transport vehicle. My communication device, my notes, my emergency supplies…all of it is in the transport vehicle, which is somewhere behind us on a road I can’t see from here.
I have the clothes on my back and a man who just broke three sets of reinforced restraints, threw an adult male through the air, and blew out the doors of an armored vehicle.
Think, Sable. Stop being angry and think.
The anger is easier. The anger has somewhere to go. But anger doesn’t assess whether the wolf standing three feet away is in control of himself. Right now, that’s the question that matters.
I watch his eyes. They’re too blue, too wide, the wolf looking out from behind a face that hasn’t committed to being human. His nostrils flare with each breath. He’s scanning the trees behind me, not looking at me, looking past me, checking for pursuit.
He hasn’t moved toward me since he set me down. His hands are at his sides. The claws extend and retract, but they aren’t reaching. His body language is defensive, not aggressive, braced between me and the direction we just came from, his weight shifted to intercept anything coming from behind.
He’s guarding. Not preparing for a kill.
That distinction is the reason I don’t run.
“Sit down,” I tell him. My voice comes out surprisingly steady.
Nothing. His eyes are still on the trees.
“There’s nobody coming. Not yet.” I have no idea if that’s true. “Sit down before you fall down.”
His legs give out before he decides. One knee hits the rock, then the other. He catches himself with one hand, claws digging into the dirt. His chest heaves. The bleeding on his side is worse now, running down into his waistband.
I crouch in front of him. My hands are shaking. I don’t try to hide it; there’s no one here to pretend for. I pull his shirt aside.
The cut is shallow but long, running along the weakest point of an old rune scar. It needs pressure, cleaning, and ideally stitches, which I don’t have materials for.
I tear a strip from my shirt hem, fold it, and press it against the wound.
He flinches. A full-body jerk that puts his claws six inches from my face before he pulls them back. My heart slams into mythroat. For one second, the reality of my situation shakes me: I’m kneeling in front of something that could kill me faster than I could stand up, and there’s no dart gun, no sedative, no three-man takedown team down the hall.
His eyes find mine. The wolf stares out. Then…something shifts. The claws retract. His hand comes up and covers mine on the cloth, pressing harder. Taking over the wound pressure.
The gesture is so practical, so human, that my pulse takes three full beats to come back down.
“Good,” I say. “Keep that there.”
I sit back on my heels. I’m shaking.
What the fuck do I do now?
The rain hits my shoulder. It’s been drizzling lightly all along, but now, it’s pouring.
“Shit,” I mutter, looking up into dark clouds, then glancing back down to where we left the road behind us. If I take him back there, he’s in a world of trouble. I listen carefully, waiting to pick up shouts, the sounds of pursuit. There’s nothing.
Maybe they went to get backup. That would make sense. They don’t know what they’re dealing with, except that he’s dangerous.
And if we walk back down that slope now, danger is all they’ll see.
The broken restraints. The unconscious handler. The ruined vehicle. Me with his blood on my hands and no good explanation for why I’m still standing beside him.
Goddammit. Why did he do that?
He watches me through the rain, silent and swaying.
The pressure to do something sharpens until standing still feels like a decision. Rain lashes through the trees, cold enough to steal my breath. Mountain rain. The kind that turns to sleet without warning. Within moments, we’re both soaked. Steamrises off his shoulders, post-shift heat burning the water away almost as fast as it falls.
