Page 94 of Sacrifice
My arm throbs, wounds complaining, but it's a good pain.
Earned pain.
Victory pain.
They came for what's mine. They bled for it. Simple math in our world.
But the equation's not balanced yet. More will come, seeking vengeance or drugs or both. We'll be ready. I'll make sure of it.
For now, though, she's safe. Sleeping peacefully in my arms while her enemies burn in a motel fire.
CHAPTER NINE
Saga
I wake to heat that has nothing to do with desire.
Emil's burning up beside me, skin slick with sweat, breathing shallow and wrong.
"Emil?" I touch his forehead and jerk back. He's on fire. "Baby, wake up."
He mutters something, eyes moving beneath closed lids, but doesn't wake.
Panic claws at my throat.
This isn't just him being exhausted, or in pain—this is some sort of infection.
"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." I scramble out of bed, yanking on clothes. "Soren!"
The door flies open before I can reach it.
My brother takes one look at my face and straightens. "What's wrong?"
"Get Mom. Now. Emil's burning up."
He's gone without another word.
I grab a washcloth from the bathroom, running cool water over it and return back to Emil.
His shirt is soaked through, and when I peel it off, the bandage underneath is angry red at the edges.
"Come on," I murmur, running the cloth over his chest, his face. "You don't get to survive a gunfight just to die from infection. That's not how this works."
His skin is so hot it's almost painful to touch.
I've seen him injured before—bar fights, club business—but never like this.
Never vulnerable.
It terrifies me more than any gunshot.
"Not dying," he mumbles, eyes cracking open. "Just resting."
"You're burning up."
"'I’m fine." He tries to sit up, but fails spectacularly. "Need to check the intel. Make sure?—"
"The only thing you need is antibiotics and proper medical care." I push him back down gently. "Mom's coming."
