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Molev roared again.
“Does anyone have eyes on Molev?” I asked.
“He’s helping us now,” Katie said.
“How injured is he?”
The beat of silence didn’t bode well.
“The vest is shredded and looks wet, but I can’t see beneath it. He just said he’s fine and will come to you soon.”
“Knock them down, and get your ass over here now, Molev,” I said, knowing he could hear me. “You have one minute. The rest of you work together to watch the roofs and keep them down until Molev is patched up and can clear them himself.”
I looked over my shoulder at the doctor.
“Get ready. Stop the bleeding and close the worst of it. He won’t give you much time.”
When I focused on the window below again, another infected was quietly climbing it. When it heard me move, it looked up. Its faintly luminescent red eyes met mine as I pulled the trigger. A hole appeared in the marred expanse of its forehead, and then it fell back like a stone.
“We all need to take a side,” I called over my shoulder.
Another shot rang out.
“Has it been a minute yet?” I called.
“I see him,” one of the soldiers called.
I heard Molev land a second later.
“Andie, help her,” he said, his voice full of command.
I pivoted, already moving in his direction before my sweeping glance registered why the doctor needed help and with what. Molev’s vest was completely shredded and wet, as Katie had stated. But so were his arms, which was why he wasn’t helping the doctor, who was trying to cut away the vest.
Together, we had it off in seconds, exposing the gashes on his chest. The bap-bap-bap of gunfire faded to background noise as I took in each injury. The hound had fought him hard. Claw marks criss crossed over Molev’s chest. Those, though, weren’t nearly as deep as the ones on his arms.
The doctor tossed a towel at me. “Put pressure on his arm. Stop the bleeding.”
I copied what she was doing on his other arm until she grabbed for the sutures.
…bap-bap-bap…
My gaze met Molev’s.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“I will heal.”
Something louder went off distantly.
“Do you want me to start giving you vague answers when you ask me important questions?” I demanded.
He pulled his lips back at me.
“That’s right. Now give me a straight answer. What hurts the most, and what do you need?”
“The opening on my right arm hurts the most. I think one of his claws is still in there. I need water.”
“Okay,” I said as the doctor and I hurried to switch places.
