Page 111 of Savage

I sit back, and I realize my arms are shaking. That’ll be the adrenaline.

I glance down at Dylan. I can’t tell if he’s breathing or not, but I don’t care.

Slowly, I go over to Stef’s side, and kneel down next to her. “Stef,” I whisper, my voice sounding unsure.

Stef is shaking, and Drake is holding her to him in a way that makes my primal instincts scream and demand blood all over again. “She’s not doing so hot,” Drake says, though, and that has me grabbing for her instead of punching him in the face.

I force my emotions down so I can assess Stef’s situation properly. There are no open wounds, and I don’t see any bruising except for in the inside of her elbow. Her throat is a bit red—from the collar—but nothing that would cause her situation.

No, the only thing that’s wrong with her is the toxin in her bloodstream.

“Do you know what he gave you?” I ask Stef.

She blinks at me a few times. “I…” She clutches weakly at me. “I didn’t want to,” she says with a sob. “I tried… I tried to fight him. I’m so… I’m so sorry, Mas… Master.”

“I know,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “I know, Stef, it’s not your fault.”

It isn’t her fault. She’s been trying so hard, she’s been so good lately, and this fucker tried to destroy all of her progress.

It makes me want to go back and beat him even more.

“Please don’t… don’t hate me—” Stef starts to say, but she gags, turning her head. She weakly tries to pull away from me as she retches.

Drake shoves something in my face, and it takes me a second to realize it’s the first aid kit I keep in my car.

I fumble it open and find the syringe I’d added after I found Stef high at the charity event. I swab her elbow clean, then inject the drug into her. It’ll counteract some of the drugs, and I hope that’s enough for now.

I should take her to the hospital. I need to make sure she gets the proper care.

But she isn’t going to get better care there than with me. I’ll call a colleague if I need another opinion, but I know she needs to ride out the drugs, again.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” I whisper to her, pulling her into my arms.

She’s sobbing harder now, mumbling an apology over and over again. I’m not sure she even hears me over the sound of her own hysterical voice.

Stef clings to me, weeping. “I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to leave,” she whimpers. “I didn’t want to do any of that. I didn’t…”

“I know,” I say, at a loss on how to comfort her.

I don’t comfort people. I tell them what’s wrong with them, and I help them heal, but nobody would ever claim I had good bedside manner. That’s what my nurses are for, but I don’t have a nurse here to help Stef. It’s just… me.

I start to stand, and Stef clings to me even harder. Her entire body trembles, from her sobbing and the drugs coursing through her system.

“I’ll carry you to the car,” I say—then I realize she’s naked, and I don’t want her going outside like this, for everybody to see. I glance over at Drake, who is, smartly, keeping his eyes to the floor. “Drake, give me your coat.”

Drake doesn’t hesitate. He shrugs off his coat and hands it over to me, and I wrap it around Stef. Despite the weight she’s put on in the past few months, she’s still small and light, and it’s not hard to pick her up.

She instantly presses her face against my shoulder, and even though her lips are probably still wet with vomit, I don’t push her away.

I cast one last look at Dylan’s beaten face. I should deal with him—but Stef is more important.

Besides, he doesn’t look like he’s capable of causing any more trouble.

I carry her out, trying to shield Stef from the cold as best I can. Drake follows at my heels, and I have no idea what he’s done with the guns—and I don’t particularly care, either. He could’ve gone back in and shot Dylan, and I wouldn’t have been sorry in the slightest.

Chase sees us and immediately opens the back door of the car for us. It’s awkward to maneuver us both inside, especially with Stef clinging to me as she is, but I refuse to let go of her.

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