Mature Content 17+ || Savage Wolves MC Book One
Recently escaped from the only home she's ever known, Letha moves out to Las Vegas to start a new life away from the people who sought to ruin her. Broke and jobless, with no employers calling her back...
*Last chapter before the Epilogue! It's been a hell of a journey, guys. As always, I love you all and thanks for reading. P.S. (Sort of a spoiler, but like, not really, y'all knew it was coming lol) I do not claim to know precisely what it is like to be shot or how it's possible to survive from a bullet to the abdomen. I do know it is possible, though, and I'm using that to my advantage. Everything I've researched seems pretty grim with a bullet to the abdomen, but it is possible to survive if treated immediately. If something is incorrect, I am sorry, I'm not a medical professional and google gave me several mixed answers on the subject. But, I am certain from the type of gunshot Letha received and where, that what is about to follow is not completely ridiculous and out of this world. Inspiration for the wound Letha receives comes from Natasha Romanoff in Captain America Winter Soldier. Enjoy!*
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•Letha•
What the actual fuck?
I blink my eyes open, a brightness unlike any other, reminiscent of staring into the sun in the middle of a summer day, filters through my fluttering eyelids.
Moving my hands around, I feel coarse, stiff sheets beneath my palms.
Furrowing my brows, my vision finally evens out and I look up at the speckled ceiling, a bright light shining overhead.
I squint, turning my head to the side to escape the light, my eyes too sensitive to handle it.
"Hey, she's awake! Blade!" A girl's excited voice nearly screams from my left side.
I cringe and lift my hands up to cover my ears and feel a pull on my arm where an IV has been inserted.
Confused, I tug on the device but with how it's taped down, there's no way in hell I'm ripping it out without tearing my skin or waxing the hair right off of my arm.
"Letha, babe, how are you feeling?" I blink, clenching my eyes shut tight over and over, before finally resting my sights on the man I didn't even see enter the room.
"Blade..." I croak out, my voice hoarse and my throat sore, a thousand knives traveling down to my stomach.
I rest my hand over my throat and massage the tender skin. It feels as if something has been shoved down my throat and scratched the delicate, inner workings of my esophagus.
Coughing, Blade helps me sit up. "Careful, you've been through a lot. Are you in any pain?"
"Pain?" I quirk an eyebrow up and look to him for answers. Aside from my throat, I feel fine. Just weak, tired. "Why would I be in pain? And where the hell am I?"
"You don't remember what happened?" He sits down on the edge of my hardened bed and leans over me, placing his hand onto the bed on the other side of my body.
I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair, feeling disgusted by the state it's currently in. When was the last time it was washed? Jeez.
