Chapter 7 - The Bleeding King
Vincent hit the wet concrete with a heavy, terrifying thud.
I screamed his name, dropping to my knees beside him in the dim light.
A dark patch of blood was rapidly spreading across the shoulder of his crisp white shirt.
"It is just a grazing shot," Vincent gritted his teeth, though his face was pale.
"We cannot stay down here, they will trap us."
I hooked my good arm under his shoulder, using all my strength to help the massive man stand.
We managed to climb the ladder, emerging into an abandoned warehouse district near the docks.
The rain had started to fall, washing away the blood on Vincent’s hands.
I dragged him inside an empty factory building, hiding us behind a stack of rusted shipping crates.
"You are losing too much blood," I panicked, ripping the fabric of my own shirt.
Using the basic first-aid knowledge from my diner days, I packed his wound tightly.
Vincent watched me work, a strange look of admiration in his dark eyes.
"You are much stronger than you think, Lena," he murmured softly.
He reached into his waistband with his good arm and pulled out his heavy handgun.
He pressed the cold metal into my trembling hand.
"They are coming, and I cannot shoot straight right now," he confessed.
The sound of echoing footsteps splashed against the wet pavement outside the warehouse.
Someone was whistling a slow, creepy tune that I recognized instantly.
It was the song Mark used to hum whenever he was angry.
May you like
A shadow stretched across the factory floor, and Mark stepped into the moonlight.
He was holding a long, blood-stained hunting knife, and his eyes were completely insane.
