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Normally, I’d use my power to pinpoint all the damage. I’d place my hand over her chest, mentally seeking out every rip, break, and tear. Then I’d push her tissues back into place and make her whole again.
But I can’t do that.
I can only assess her from the outside.
There’s a gash on her forehead that’s gushing blood. The red rivulets are running down her temple and into her hair. One of her arms is obviously broken; the bone in her forearm is crooked. Scratches are all over her, and large bruises are already beginning to form.
I want to scoop her up and cradle her in my arms, but I’m afraid if I touch her, I’ll only hurt her worse. I have no idea what kind of damage has been done internally, but I suspect she’s mortally wounded.
I refuse to accept this.
She needs to be healed. Now.
Tugging at the Valonite necklace, I try to snap it off. I pull it so hard I end up cutting the back of my neck, but the design is too solid, and it won’t break.
Next, I try to yank it over my head, but I’d have to cut off my ears and crush my jaw to remove it.
Which I’m honestly considering.
“Kai,” Ro wheezes, and I’m both shocked and elated that she’s still conscious.
“I’m here.” I gently stroke her forehead.
She gazes up at me through fluttering eyelids. “I—I didn’t panic this time. Aren’t you proud of me?”
How can I be proud when her courage produced these results? How could I possibly be happy that she’s the one lying on the ground instead of me?
I don’t say those things, though.
Tears blur my vision as I reply, “You were so brave, Sunny. You always are. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn’t have.”
“It’sss okay,” she slurs with a wobbly smile, and when she sees that I’m crying she says, “Hey, don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt that much.”
I laugh and sob at the same time because it’s ridiculous how she’s trying to make me feel better when she’s the one who’s been mangled. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
Blood bubbles at her lips. “I’m serious. I barely feel anything.”
That’s not reassuring. At all. Not that I want her to be in agony, but the absence of it isn’t a good sign.
“I’m going to examine you for a second, all right?” As softly as I can, I start my assessment.
Palpating her ribs, I feel the inconsistencies in the shape of the bones. They’ve been crushed. So has her pelvis, and there’s no way her organs aren’t affected.
I don’t like the sound her lungs are making. They’re filling with blood. With every inhale, she struggles with fighting gasps, and every exhale emits a disturbing rattle.
The pulse in her neck is weak and slow when I press my fingers to her artery.
Without a doubt, she’s dying. I don’t need my power to tell me that.
“Kai?”
“Yes, my love?”
“Just hold me?”
The request devastates me.
Because it’s alastrequest.
