Magnate (Acquisition 2)

“Oh, shit.” I dropped to my knees at the edge of the hole and reached down for him.

He grimaced and raised up on his elbow. “I am so stupid. So fucking stupid.”

“No, no.” I bent over toward him. “Can you get up? Give me your hand.”

“It hurts.” He stared at his calf, his eyes wide with shock.

“I know. But we have to keep moving. They’ll come here first. Please, Gavin.” Desperation colored my voice.

He nodded and turned on his side, more bamboo shoots rolling beneath his large frame.

“Is it just your leg?” I asked as he took my hand.

“I think so. Isn’t that enough?” He pulled hard enough on my arm that I thought it might come out of the socket, but he managed to perch himself on the edge of the pit next to me. “So fucking dumb. I saw it and thought… I don’t know what I thought.” He examined the injury. “I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

The bloodied shoot had been sharpened into a curving tip, penetrating Gavin’s flesh cleanly.

“We have to pull it out and keep moving.” I took his booted foot in my hands and placed it on his other knee so I could get a better look at the spear. Blood soaked into the white fabric around the wound.

Gavin shook his head, a dazed expression in his eyes. “I don’t know—”

“Oh, god.” Brianne caught up and retched into the leaves behind me.

“I’m going to pull it from this direction, okay?” I gripped the longer end of the spike. “Just hold still.”

“Fuck! I don’t think I can do this.” Gavin clutched my hand.

I put my gloved palms on his cheeks and stared into his amber eyes, now awash with pain. “We can do this. I’ve got your back.”

He nodded, sweat running down his face.

I bent over him and gripped the underside of the shoot again. “On three.”

He took a deep breath.

“One, two—” I ripped it free in one smooth jerk.

Gavin’s scream pierced my ears, leaving them ringing long after the air was gone from his lungs.

He lay back and pulled his knee to his chest, his hands clutching at the punctured leg. I fought back my tears and glanced to the lightening sky.

“Here.” I ripped the thin edge of my dress, tearing off a long strip. Wrapping it around Gavin’s wound, I pulled it tight to try and stem the flow of blood. He grunted as I tied it off.

“Brianne, help me get him up.”

She sat on the stony ground, her chest heaving and her hands clapped over her ears.

“Brianne!” I took her forearms and shook her. “Snap the fuck out of it.”

“I can’t.” She shook her head and her tone was reminiscent of a tired child.

The moon was gone, time running away from us just as we ran from our hunters. Bitterness welled in my stomach, then a seething hatred. I wasn’t angry at Brianne, but I needed her to function. I grabbed her hair where it flowed from beneath her cap and ripped her to her feet. She screamed. I didn’t care.

“Stella—” She protested.

I shook her again, this time by her hair, putting every ounce of nastiness into it that I could. “Shut the fuck up and help Gavin.”

Her lip trembled, but when I released her, she didn’t fall. Instead, she knelt next to Gavin. I took his other side and we lifted him.

“Can you walk?” I asked.

“It hurts, but I think everything still works.” He grunted. After a few steps, he was able to walk on his own with a pronounced limp. Our pace slowed to a crawl, but we keep plodding through the never-ending trees.

My legs burned, the pain in my arm now a dull throbbing ache. My cheeks were wind-chapped and stinging. And, above all, I was cold. The sort of cold that nothing short of a soak in a hot bath or a long shower could alleviate. It was in my bones.

We trekked and trekked before coming to another shallow ravine crossing up the hill in the direction we were going.

Gavin and I turned and started heading up the slope when Brianne collapsed behind us.

We rushed back to her. Her chest heaved, big white plumes of her breath floating in the air.

“You okay?” I asked. I yanked a glove off and smoothed her hair from her face. Her skin was cold and clammy. Had I pushed her too hard?

“No. I can’t. I can’t go on.”

“You can.” I wrapped my arms around her chest and lifted. “Get up.”

She remained limp, every last bit of fight expended. “No, I can’t. I’m tired. I’m too tired. Leave me.” Her voice was weak.

I glanced up to Gavin. “What are we going to do?” I didn’t want to face the truth. “We have to take her with us.”

He leaned against a tree. “I would carry her, but I can’t. I just can’t.” He gestured to the crimson stain on his pant leg.