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I don’t know if Sadie actually says the word or her lips just form the name. I can hear nothing over the pounding in my ears. I’m lowering Madison to the ground as my hand clamps against her neck. Jayla rushes to our side. Dimly, I see Kit give Sadie a shove, but she’s already backing off, one hand to her mouth, horror in her eyes.
I see Sadie completely then—the bandages half pulled from her ruined face, bone jabbing against the bandages on her leg, her one arm twisted grotesquely. She meets my gaze, and I see Sadie in there. Oh God, I still see Sadie.
Her hand lowers from her mouth and her lips form the words “I’m sorry.”
Then she runs. Lopes, hobbles, staggers. I don’t even know what word to use. She goes. That is all that matters. She goes.
Kit has his shirt off, and he rips the sleeve free as Jayla paws through the bandages and supplies Garrett left scattered about.
“L-Laney?” Madison whispers, her eyes still impossibly huge. “Laney?”
“You’re okay,” I say, even as blood gushes through my fingers. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”
“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No!” I say, the word harsh as I meet her gaze. “You did nothing wrong, and you will be okay.”
Kit’s there, using his torn sleeve to apply pressure to Madison’s neck. Blood soaks through it in a blink. Jayla shoves bandages at us, but we just keep applying pressure.
“Laney?”
Madison’s hands flutter, as if searching for mine.
I hold them tight.
“It’s not the jugular,” she whispers.
I want to sob, and I want to laugh hysterically. We’re freaking out, and her voice is so calm. It’s shock, I know that. But it pulls me back to earth and grounds me.
“Need to stop the bleeding,” she says.
“I know. We’re working on it.”
“Keep my head raised above my heart.”
We’re already doing that, but she’s in too much shock to know, so I only nod and keep pressure on that spot, staring as if I can will it to stop bleeding. Seconds tick past, and the bandage stays white.
Has the bleeding stopped? How much blood has she lost? Yes, it’s not the jugular or carotid, but itwassomething, and I have no idea what or how bad the injury was and I can’t answer that without opening the bandages, which I’m sure as hell not going to do.
“Laney?” she whispers.
“We’ve got it,” I say. “I think the bleeding stopped and—”
Madison’s head lolls, eyes shutting. I let out a noise. I don’t even know what kind of noise, I just feel it rip from my throat as her grip relaxes on my hand.
My fingers fly to Madison’s face, cupping it.
“Madison?” I say. “Mads?”
A hand grips my arm. Kit’s voice. “She just lost consciousness, Laney. She’s still breathing. We need to get her inside.”
Don’t move her.That’s what I want to say.Do not touch her. No onecan touch her but me, and we are leaving her right here and waking her up so I can be sure she’s alive.
So I can be sure my baby is alive.
I physically force myself to move away, hands lifted as if in surrender. Kit gently slides his hands under Madison’s shoulders and knees. Then he very carefully lifts her, his gaze fixed on her mouth, as if watching for any hitch in her breathing.
Jayla runs ahead and opens the door. I follow anxiously, my whole body twitching. Then we’re inside and Kit is moving toward the sofa. I recover enough to scramble past him and open up the sofa bed.
