That almond and apple scent mixed with terror and care.
I dipped under the shade of the trees, my heart that had been pounding hard now careening.
My gaze snagged on the same peep-toe shoes she loved to tempt me with that had been kicked off and left on the path. I ducked down and picked them up, my pace increasing as I moved through the stir of energy toward the house.
It was denser the closer I got. A whir of it that spun around the walls.
I clumped up the stairs, wondering what the fuck I thought I was doing, so fucking drawn I couldn’t think straight.
I tossed open the door to the flurry of activity going on inside.
“I said I’m fine.” At Brinley’s wheezed words coming from the kitchen, my screaming heart jumped to my throat. I flew through the archway.
She was in a chair turned out from the dining table, holding a bloodied damp rag to her foot.
Fury splintered.
“Are you hurt?” I demanded.
“She cut her foot up real good,” Meems confirmed, her gaze slanting to me.
Tortured and pained.
Full of an apology.
I gritted my teeth, trying to feel none of it, my attention slanting to Elena who was on her knees in front of Brinley. Her hands flitted all over like she wanted to do something but had no idea what.
“I’m worried she needs stitches.” I could hear the tears in Elena’s voice.
“I’m fine,” Brinley huffed again, then she pinned those fiery eyes on me. “Is he gone?”
That was her concern.
“Yeah, he’s gone, and he’s not coming back.”
I dropped my focus to Elena, offering it like a promise.
She nodded at me, the normal sass and irritation she watched me with replaced with trust and pain.
Like she got my reasoning for keeping her sheltered, but there was still no erasing the pain of it.
“Where’s Kai?” I gritted.
“Sleeping in his playpen. He didn’t even wake up.” Elena’s laugh was soggy.
My nod was sharp.
Eyes dragging back to Brinley who peeled back the rag to get a look at her foot.
More blood gushed, and she winced, quick to cover it up.
“Fuck,” I grumbled, and I was scooching Elena aside and sweeping Brinley from the chair, one arm under her legs and the other behind her upper back.
“What the heck, Silas?” she gasped as the rag splatted to the ground.
I didn’t answer.
I just carried her up the stairs and into the bathroom in my room, likely leaving a trail of blood behind us.
