Page 387 of Shadowblood Souls
I twist toward her as she cringes closer to me. Blood streaks across the side of her arm where one of the bullets hit her.
It doesn’t look serious, but guilt knots my stomach anyway.
“Stay quiet,” I murmur to her urgently. “It’ll be okay as long as we don’t draw more attention.”
Those definitely aren’t any government soldiers come to thank us for our service. They were dressed similarly in earthen tones but nothing like an official uniform.
And I can already hear them yelling at the villagers with hostility rather than relief.
As Griffin shuffles closer to Lindsay with a bandage he’s pulled from his pocket, I peer through the brush again. I have to get to Jacob and Zian—make sure they’re okay, do what we can to pick up the pieces of our mission.
Frustration and fear tangle in my chest to form a prickling vibration. I’ll scream all these assholes who’ve barged in to ruin our victory to pieces.
But when I judge it safe to lift my head so I can stare down into the courtyard, my spirits deflate.
The new arrivals have obviously figured out that something very bad happened to the insurgents who were here first. They’re herding the hostages into the largest of the two-story buildings around the courtyard, shouting and shoving—many of them already inside.
Even with my practice under Clancy’s supervision, I doubt I can keep track of who I’m tearing into with my scream when I can’t even see who I’m aiming it at. I’d end up ripping through a bunch of the innocent villagers too.
Shit, shit,shit.
But if these men are with the first bunch, how long will they wait beforetheystart killing more of the hostages in retribution for our attack? We don’t have time to figure out a new plan.
Behind those walls, they could be slaughtering hostages to hold up as examples right now.
I feel like I’m going to vomit. I still need to reach Jacob and Zian, help them if they need it.
What is Clancy going to do if we have to pull out to get them to Dominic for healing?
Too many thoughts are whirling in my head. Just move—figure it out one step at a time.
I drag in a rough breath and glance at Griffin. “I’m going to the others. Keep making the insurgents as calm as you can manage.”
“Riva—”
I don’t wait to hear what he’s going to say. The seconds are slipping past me—I might already have wavered too long.
The last of the gunmen is disappearing into the building. I heave myself forward, scuttling along the slope staying as low to the ground as I can, following the line of spindly shrubs for the cover they provide.
Jacob hasn’t moved much from where I sensed him before. Hopefully Zian and the younger two are still with him.
I have to run the last short distance from the patches of vegetation to the fence around the sheep pen, and then another short dash to nearest structure by the courtyard. Thankfully, I’ve already passed out of view of the building the terrorists ushered their captives into.
As I sprint to the mud-brick wall, the boom of a single gunshot splits the air from the other direction.
My wince radiates through my body. The scream swells in my lungs, but I don’t have a proper target.
I dash around the corner of the structure—and make out a shed I can sense Jacob is behind up ahead. My footfalls echo the pounding of my heart.
I dart around the shed and freeze with a sharper lurch of my gut.
Jacob is leaning against the side of the shed, looking pissed off just like Griffin said. Blood has pooled beneath his thigh and is seeping through the hasty bandage already wrapped around the wound.
He might not even be able to walk like that.
And Zian looks even worse off. He must have caught a bullet in the side—the hem of his shirt and the left hip of his pants are dark with blood.
Tegan huddles close to him, helping him press a couple of balled bandages to the wound in an effort to stop the bleeding. She looks all right.
