Page 45 of The Ripper

“My brother’s been stabbed,” I blurted out.

“Where are you?” She seemed fully awake now, and I heard her bed squeak as she probably stood up.

“No, no, you can’t come here, just tell me what to do over the phone,” I said as I put her on speakerphone.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she demanded, “is he breathing?”

“Yes.”

“Is he conscious?”

“No,” I looked back at Klaus as I heard a door closing on the phone.

“Is the knife still in the wound?”

“Yes, but he’s bleeding. He’s sitting on a chair; I didn’t know if I could move him.”

“Sitting on a…” she paused.

“Yes, I don’t know what to do, he’s losing blood.”

I didn’t recognize my voice, since I’d never felt so powerless in my entire life.

“Grimm,” her soft tone broke through my ear. “Listen to me, try to lay him down on his back and lift his feet, then put pressure on the wound around the knife, but don’t remove it.”

I put the phone on the floor and did as she said. I carefully laid him on his back and lifted his legs onto a wooden box, then applied pressure to the wound.

“Boss, what can we do?” one of the men asked, but when he saw my face and the look in my eyes, he backed off.

“What’s his body temperature?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Is his skin hot or cold?”

“Normal, I guess, I don’t know. A little cold, maybe.”

“You need to call an ambulance, Grimm,” her voice kept snapping me out of my murderous state.

“I can’t do that.”

“Mierda[4],” she cursed. “Grimm, if you want him to survive this, you need to give me the address.”

Surprisingly, I didn’t know she spoke Spanish, and although the way she said it made it seem like it was her native tongue, I couldn’t linger that much on the things I didn’t know about her, because I was focused on keeping my brother alive.

“It’s not safe,” I rasped through clenched teeth, unsure of whether or not I could stand seeing her surrounded by all the carnage that had taken place in the warehouse.

“I’ll bring a knife,” she said calmly, and I could almost feel the eyeroll. “You said you wouldn’t let anything happen to me. I trust you to keep your promise. Now give me the fucking address.”

Her voice sent a shiver down my spine, so clinical and demanding, as if she wasn’t asking, but ordering, and I reluctantly sent her my live location, then returned my hand to Klaus’ abdomen, pressing on the wound.

“I’ll be there soon,” she said softly, then she hung up.

“Don’t you dare die, motherfucker,” I whispered over my brother’s face. “You’re the good one out of the two of us, you’re the one who should die of old age.”

I couldn’t tell you how long I sat there, waiting, with his blood running down my palms, but when she arrived, my hands were numb from the constant pressure I applied.

She entered like a storm, dressed in my T-shirt, a pair of pink, fluffy slippers, and her hair tied in a messy bun on top of her head. Her eyes didn’t even wander around as she seemed intent on reaching me, but she was suddenly stopped by Boris, who wrapped his hand around her throat.

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