Hunted

Chapter Ten

Blackborne and Toma Team
Elmwood, South Carolina

The bird really was a quiet little thing.

Cocking his head to the side, Nathan observed the smaller group huddled inside of their car. Brandon had been unceremoniously dumped into the front seat by a cursing Gabe— his arm smarting after an unwelcomed blow he'd been gifted for his efforts. He was still cursing even now, propped against the hood of the car and glaring at Brandon like the man cared. In any other situation, Nathan would have laughed, but the worried frown dotting Sean's forehead kept the humor at bay.

Kneeling in front of Brandon, tucked between the two open side doors of the car, Dr. Green had Brandon's leg outstretched in front of him, sterile scissors cutting away at the now blood-soaked jeans. Their impromptu stich kit was propped in his lap, needle primed and ready for whatever damage he'd find.

"One inch higher and we'd be doing surgery," Sean tutted, snipping away at a stubborn seam, "You're lucky they had bad aim."

The reprimand made Brandon scoff, "Guess I should thank them. Huh, doc?"

Nathan couldn't see it, but he was more than familiar with the way Sean's shoulders stiffened. He didn't have to imagine the glare the good doctor wore— the sight forever etched into his memory after one two many stupid stunts.

Near Gabriel, North snorted, "You could try."

He and Silas were tasked with oversight, making sure the bird didn't pull another escape stunt. He had his hands propped on his waist, attention on Dr. Green's actions, but his focus constantly flickered toward the quiet little bird tucked into the back passenger seat. Nathan couldn't even blame him.

He was just as bad.

Sang Sorenson was a curious thing. Between her blonde hair and pretty sea-foam eyes, Nathan had expected someone a bit more dainty. A cheerleader maybe. She looked the type. It was that assumption that had him dreading to meet her, expecting ugly tears and a broken nail. Sue him— he'd seen the movies. He knew what girls like her were like.

He'd resigned himself to saving another damsel in distress, but boy, was he wrong.

There'd been no tears.

There'd been nothing really, not since she gave the gun to Axel.

Bright green irises shown from a tired face, highlighted by the purple bruises under her eyes. Raven had offered her his jacket after helping her to the car and the heavy, leather fabric coated her thin shoulders like a blanket. The shadowy background really brought out the pale sheen of her skin and the flecks of blood mixed in her hair. Even her pink lips were twisted in a frown, brow puckering as Dr. Green finally cut away the last of Brandon's jeans.

It was the most expression he'd seen on her face since she'd been put in the car.

"She looks tired," Victor's remark nearly startled Nathan out of his own skin. He'd forgotten the guy was back there, absorbed in his inspection of the new girl. "When do you think she last slept?"

Nathan hiked his shoulder in half a shrug, the idea pulling his mouth tight, "Couldn't tell you. It would have had to been at least yesterday, if that. Shit—" another realization slammed into his train of thought, "What about food? Do we feed her?"

The look Victor gave him at the question could only be described as judgment. One thin brow arched high, "She's not a pet."

"I know that," he snapped back, hackles rising in embarrassment before he scrubbed a hand through his hair, "I just didn't know if we needed to get food or something."