Page 49 of Mortify

Tore him up good coming out.

"Need to get him to Doc," Aesir says, hands slick with blood. "This is beyond my field medicine shit."

"Go," Fenrir orders. "Vanir, ride with them."

As they load Rati up, Gwen's voice comes through the radio. "We've got wounded coming in. How bad?"

"GSW to the lower torso," Aesir reports. "Lost a lot of blood but vitals are holding. He needs to get to the hospital, stat."

We can all hear the nervousness in Gwen’s voice. "Okay. Who was hit?"

No one wants to tell her it was her old man.

I step outside for air while they work.

The adrenaline's fading, leaving that hollow feeling that comes after every run.

But, that's when I seehim.

Across the field, just at the tree line.

Figure with a camera, lens glinting in the light from the burning barn.

The way he holds himself, the height, the build—I know that silhouette.

Dylan fucking Mitchell.

My blood goes cold.

What the hell is he doing here?

How did he even know about this?

I start moving toward him, but he's already backing into the trees.

By the time I reach the spot, he's gone.

Just tire tracks in the mud, heading back toward the main road.

Fresh tracks, deep in the soft ground.

He was here the whole time, watching, documenting.

Tor appears beside me, weapon ready. "There a problem?"

"Thought I saw something," I say, mind racing.

Do I tell him?

But what would I say—that Everly's ex was here taking pictures?

That opens questions about why I give a shit about Everly's ex.

"Probably locals," Tor says, but he's scanning the tree line carefully. "Gunfire draws looky-loos. Though they'd have to be stupid to get this close."

"Yeah, probably."

But I know better.

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