Page 112 of Can You Take It?

Noah nods, pulling his gun out. We move silently towards the source of the noise.

“Over there,” I gesture. We move towards the sound. As we get closer, the noise becomes clearer—a weak, almost pitiful whimper. I gesture for Noah to stay back as I inch forward.

“You’re under arrest,” I grit out with handcuffs in my hand.

I finally see a girl, no older than twenty, huddled on the ground. In that split second of disbelief, a searing pain rips through my gut.

I stumble back, realizing too late she’s just gutted me with a knife. I fight the urge to crumble, to let the pain take over. Adrenaline kicks in, reminding me I’m still in the fight. Ignoring the blood pouring from the wound, I lunge forward, disarming the girl with a swift move.

“Fuck,” I gasp, clutching my stomach as I kick the knife away. Blood seeps through my fingers, but I can’t afford to let up. I’ve got to finish this, wound be damned.

Noah and Emily rush in, arresting the girl. They look at me, and I can see concern etched on their faces.

“You okay, Rick?” Emily asks.

I nod, blood staining my shirt. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

The girl looks up at me with big, scared eyes. “Please, let me go,” she sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

What the fuck is going on? I look at her, still clutching my bleeding gut.

“Who the hell are you?” I manage to grind out through the pain.

“Jessica. Jessica Turner,” she says, tears streaming down her face. “Please, you have to believe me. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Bullshit,” I snarl. “Why’d you do it, then?”

“It wasn’t my idea,” she cries harder, trembling like a leaf. “It was her. She made me do it.”

“Who?” I demand. “Who the fuck made you do this?”

“A girl. Petite, brown hair, ying-yang eyes,” she says, looking around like she’s expecting someone to come out.

Emily’s eyes narrow. She pulls out her phone and shows Jessica a picture. “This girl?”

Jessica nods frantically. “Yes! That’s her! I swear, she made me do it. She said she’d kill me if I didn’t go along with it.”

Noah’s face hardens. “We’ve gotta arrest Izel.”

The medics swarm around me, and their hands start working quickly to patch up the knife wound. Fuck, it stings like hell, but I grit my teeth and bear it. Noah’s standing nearby probably waiting for an explanation about Izel.

“How the hell did you know about Luna’s location?” he asks with genuine curiosity. I don’t bother answering. Instead, I turn my attention to the medic.

“You done patching me up?” I growl, eager to get back to the action. The medic hesitates, looking at me with concern.

“Sir, I don’t think you should be working with that wound,” he advises.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. Just tell me if it’s fucking done.” The medic nods and I push myself off the makeshift treatment table.

Ignoring Noah’s lingering stare, I pull out my phone and dial Colton. The damn thing rings for what feels like an eternity before he answers.

“Colton, how’s Luna?”

“No major injuries, Rick. She’ll be fine,” he assures me. Relief floods through me, and I manage a gruff, “Good. Is she awake?”

“No, she’s still out,” Colton replies. “Looks like she was kept bound to a chair. Scarring on her wrists suggests she was tied up for a while.”

“Fuck,” I grind my teeth. “Stay with her. Call me as soon as she wakes up.”

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