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Finally, he reached her, pressed his fingertips to her throat. He thought he felt a pulse, but his fingers were mostly numb.
Fin slumped to the floor beside her, trying to drag her to him so he could protect her as best he could.
Which was pretty much not at all.
How could he protect her when his spinning head was about to throw him off the merry-go-round and into oblivion?
He had messed up.
He should have called for help before coming in here.
And now it was too late.
Blackness came down and covered him.
Fin didn't know how much time had passed when he first started to climb his way back to consciousness.
It took a moment for everything to come rushing back.
The gunshot.
Finding Chloe and Savannah unconscious.
Being drugged.
His eyes snapped open, and he would have bolted upright, but his limbs were still heavy.
Fear laced his blood, traveling around every inch of his body.
Chloe was no longer in his arms.
Wildly, he searched the room, but she wasn't there.
She was gone.
But Savannah wasn't. She still lay right where she’d been when he’d stupidly come running in here.
What he should have done was call Tom, then sit and watch the house until he got there.
Pity he was smart about it now and not when it had mattered.
Staggering to his feet, he hurried to Savannah and dropped down at her side. Had she been drugged, too? If she had, she should have woken up by now—she’d been drugged first, so she should already be coming around. Unless he’d given her too much. He doubted whoever had attacked them had measured out the appropriate doses proportionate to their respective sizes.
Fin spotted blood on her hip.
Maybe she hadn’t been drugged.
He checked for a pulse and found one, although it was weak and erratic.
Carefully, he probed her injury. As he eased down the waist of her skirt, so he could see it, he winced.
Savannah’s hip was a mangled mess.
It looked like someone had kicked her hard enough to shatter her already injured hip. With how it looked, she would be lucky if she’d ever be able to walk again.
Panic was making it hard for him to concentrate. He wanted to find Chloe. The man who’d knocked him out had taken her. Given that Savannah had a broken—most likely shattered—bone, he was terrified it was The Breaker. She had obviously gone looking for him, only he had been prepared and gotten her first. But why leave Savannah behind? And him?
As much as he’d love to go running off and search for Chloe, pointless may it be, Savannah needed him.
