Page 16 of Hunted, Season Three

Or flirting.

Or fucking bandages.

Our girlfriend is missing.

Ourpregnantgirlfriend is fucking missing.

Our pregnant girlfriend is fucking missing and being hunted by a psychopath!

Fuck my injuries!

Fuck my possible broken rib!

Fuck everything else that isn’t finding and rescuing her!

“Kid,” Nolan calls to me alongside a hard squeeze, “we’re gonna go save her.”

“Then fuck the first aid kit!”

“K-”

“Fuck getting me cleaned up!”

“K-”

“Fuck everything!”Removing myself from his hold swiftly occurs again.“Let’s get the fuck out there!Let’s go fucking looking!Searching!Hunting!”One finger jabs the direction I’m fairly certain they went.“Let’s get outta fucking park and start driving!”

“We will,” he states in a voice much too calm for my liking.“Right after we clean you up.”

“We need to save her!”

“Saving her doesn’t mean sacrificingyou.”My mouth twitches in objection only to be bluntly cut off.“Now, shut up, and wait here while I get the kit.”

Thrusting myself backward onto the driver’s side door of his truck accidentally knocks the wind out of me.

Cargodsshowalittlemercy.

It’s bad enough I don’t know where Bunny is.

That I didn’t keep my word.

That I didn’t protect her.

Them.

I failed.

Iepicallyfailed.

Because of me…because I left her side…left her unprotected…she’s out there somewhere fighting for her life –their lives– all alone.

What if something’s already happened to her?

What if she’s somewhere bleeding and pleading and crying out for us?

What if she’s dying?

Dread rolls around the pit of my stomach as my eyes are forced shut by an even darker thought.

---