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I looked down at his chest in horror. Prolonged silver exposure would kill him, and my jacket lining was already turning red.“Shit! Just hang on. I’ll get them out. I’ll fix it.”
“But, Ingrid—”
“I have to help you,” I snapped, glancing back over my shoulder. The inside of Ingrid’s shop was an inferno. At least that would catch someone’s attention. The flames had grown so high I couldn’t hear her screams or see her body anymore. “She’s gone.”
Jackson’s face twisted in agony, and he turned his head to the side to cough up blood. “Bex!”
“I’m right here. Just hang on,” I said, tossing my jacket to the side. “I’m going to pull the bullets out with a spell. I’ll try to be gentle, but it’s gonna hurt. Okay?”
He turned his head back to me, his right hand limply gripping my knee. “You don’t have gloves.”
“I don’t care. I have to help you,” I said, flexing my fingers in front of me. The magic that rose in answer to the gesture wasn’t anywhere near what I needed. I flexed them again, and the buzzing spread across my skin. Whatever poison the shapeshifter had used, it was already starting to fade.
Jackson’s shirt lifted away from the wounds with a flick of my wrist, and I willed my energy down into the holes she’d left in his chest. I felt my concentration slip along his skin, and then my energy hit the metal of the bullet and a sharp electric charge shot up my arms and through my neck. I cringed and leaned over him.
Jackson’s hand found my arm and the vision of his death shot across my mind, blotting out the world. One minute we were being pelted by rain, and the next we were naked in bed together. My hands sliding up his chest, my fingers locking around his neck and—I shook the vision off and forced myself back into the present.
“No.” I shook my head. “That bitch enchanted the bullets.”
“Rebekah—”
“Your knife. Where’s your knife?” I asked, looking up at him just in time to watch his eyes rolling back into his head. “No!”
Patting his hips and digging my fingers in his pockets, I couldn’t find it. I reached for his ankles and there it was in his right boot. How could I have forgotten that? He was the one who’d taught me to keep my nightstick in my boot. It was my last resort weapon. My back up.
My hands shook around the handle as I flipped the blade open. I was going to have to touch him to cut the holes and get the bullets out. The vision would come back, but I had to push through. If I didn’t act fast, vision or no vision, he’d be dead. He’d already lost so much blood.
“Jackson,” I called, leaning closer to him, brushing my fingers over his face with my free hand. “I need you to look at me, baby. Look at me. Come on, open your eyes.”
He groaned, his head lulling against my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, just open your eyes. Open your eyes,” I begged. “I need you to stay with me.”
His eyes fluttered open. “It’s too late. The poison. I can’t heal.”
“Stop. Don’t say that,” I hissed, pulling back to where the wounds poured blood over his abdomen. He could talk at least. It was sheer luck that they hadn’t punctured his lungs, but the blood... Reaching down to steady myself on his stomach, it poured over my hands, and the vision of his death flashed across my eyes. I tried to push it away, but my consciousness split between the vision and reality, ripping my focus to shreds.
But I had to focus. Jackson’s life depended on it. Taking a deep breath, the blade sliced through Jackson’s shirt like butter, cutting it down the middle. Another wave of blood poured over my hands, but I bit my lip and managed to stay in the present.
“I’m sorry,” I said, biting my lower lip. “But this is gonna hurt.”
“It’s okay,” he said, turning his head away from me to cough again. A spittle of blood fell over his lower lip, and he wheezed.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I chanted, redirecting the knife towards the first wound. I tried to make the cut as neat as I could, but it looked like a crooked lightning bolt, oozing blood. I switched the knife into my other hand and plunged my index and middle fingers blindly into the incision. I couldn’t see but I pushed harder, and my fingers brushed against ice-cold metal. The bullet was protecting itself from my touch. The enchantment wanted blood.
Jackson roared in pain, his heels scraping across the ground in an effort to stay still. His eyes flashed yellow and a wave of heat billowed from his chest. His wolf was rising to the surface to help him heal, but it wouldn’t be enough. Not with the silver in his system. I had to get the bullet out.
Pinching it between my fingers, like a claw, I felt the metal cut into my skin and I pulled. I made it half an inch before I lost my grip and had to try again. It came free with a wet squelch on the second try, and I tucked it into my pocket.
Jackson’s hand clawed at my knee again, but I ignored him and moved onto the second hole in his chest. Each cut I made brought more blood to the surface, and his skin was turning an ugly shade of gray. He was dying, but I’d seen his death, and this wasn’t it.
I had the knife poised to cut, and he grabbed my wrist. “Rebekah, I lov—”
“No,” I snapped. “No, goodbyes. This is not how you die.”
“It’s too—it’s too late,” he repeated, his voice shaking.
“No, I can get it out. Let me make one more cut, and then you’ll heal. You’ll be okay.”
