Page 71 of Sinful
"He's alive," Elfe says quickly, moving to her side. "Mom, he's alive. They're taking care of him."
"His hand—" Mom's voice breaks.
"I know, but he's alive. That's the most important thing."
Mom nods, but she's crying again, silent tears that she doesn't bother wiping away.
I want to go to her, to hold her, to say something that makes this better.
But I'm the reason he lost his hand in the first place.
I'm the reason he was taken, tortured, mutilated.
So I stand there useless while Elfe comforts our mother, and I wonder if I'll ever stop destroying everything I touch.
Inside the clubhouse, it’s pure chaos.
Members are everywhere, weapons being cleaned and stowed, voices raised in discussion about what happened, what comes next.
Someone's on the phone with someone else—probably spreading word that my father’s back, that Los Coyotes took casualties.
That we survived.
I catch pieces of conversation as I follow my family upstairs.
"—eight dead, every single one of them?—"
"—Ivar's daughter, the blonde one, she was there?—"
"—heard she confessed to something, but nobody's saying what?—"
I keep my head down and keep moving.
Gwen and Vail have set up in one of the spare rooms on the second floor—the one the club uses for exactly this.
Medical emergencies that can't see daylight.
There's already equipment here: an IV pole, monitoring equipment, cabinets full of supplies that aren't exactly legal to own outside a hospital.
Dad's on the bed, shirt cut away, revealing the full extent of the damage.
Burns on his chest and abdomen—cigarette marks, methodical and precise.
Cuts on his arms, some shallow, some deep enough to scar.
Bruising everywhere, purple and black and yellow, mapping out weeks of torture.
And his left arm, ending in blood-soaked bandages where his hand used to be.
Mom makes a sound—half sob, half scream—and Elfe has to physically hold her up.
"He needs more than we can give him," Gwen says, looking at Runes. "The amputation site needs proper surgical closure. He needs antibiotics we don't have. Blood work to check for infection, organ damage?—"
"Get what you need," Runes interrupts. "Money's not an issue."
"It's not about money. It's about expertise." Gwen's face is grim. "He needs a doctor. A real one."
"Then we get him a real one." Runes pulls out his phone, steps into the hallway.
