Bruja Born (Brooklyn Brujas #2)(71)

But instead of hitting the marble floor, something crashes into me. A body?

The force of him is like a wrecking ball pushing me to the side. We slide and slam into a wall. I’m half in his arms and half on the floor.

“You’re heavier than you look,” he says. He half smirks and half grimaces as he tries to sit up.

I blink a few times, and my heart pounds so fast I’m afraid it’ll run laps around the room on its own. Rhett’s earth-brown eyes look down at me, probably checking to see if I have any life-threatening injuries. Then I grasp what he just said to me and I manage an indignant grunt.

“I’m small but mighty,” I say.

“Right, you’re okay, then.”

I try to stand up but it’s a struggle. A wave of vertigo keeps me in his arms even though I’m trying my hardest to stand up. I scream as I accidentally place my weight on my bad hand.

“Nothing about this is okay,” I say. I look back up at him through the dark shadows at the edges of my vision. “Maks is still upstairs. His sister is alive. You have to help her!”

“Stay here.” Rhett sits me up against the wall. “I’ll go find him.”

Where would I go? I want to say. But I can’t talk anymore. I can barely move.

“No need,” Maks calls out from above, his voice a deep growl. He jumps over the railing and lands in a crouch. He pushes himself up gracefully and looks the hunter up and down. “Who the hell is this? Another monster to add to your collection?”

“I’m the last person you’re going to see.” Rhett reaches for the sword at his hip but grabs at empty space.

Maks lands a solid punch in Rhett’s face. The hunter spits out blood but swings and misses. Maks dodges him and staggers back with a cruel grin on his face. He cracks his knuckles, ready to attack again, when a shuffle draws our attention to the living room door. My heart falls when I see her.

“You dropped something,” Irina says, her voice like syrup. Her eyes are fading from blue to white, blood trickling from the knife wound at her neck. She picks up the sword lying at her feet.

“Irina—” The words die on my tongue. What can I say? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. As my heart seizes painfully, I know it won’t be enough.

Rhett’s features are tight, like he’s combing through every scenario in his playbook. Maks has casimuerto strength and Irina has his sword. Rhett has a messed-up shoulder and no weapon. He’s taller and more muscular than Maks, but Maks doesn’t back down.

Instead, he takes a step closer. His snowdrift eyes are open wide in amusement as Rhett puts his fists up.

“Stop, please,” I manage to say. I cough up blood and my heart gives a few painful lurches.

“Maks,” Irina whispers, raking her fingers across her chest. “I don’t feel well.”

That’s when I notice Irina and Maks both wince. It’s the tiniest flicker across their gray, undead faces. But it’s there. They can feel the pain I do. Rhett seems to notice too.

“Keep the sword,” Rhett says, and pulls a slim, black box from his pocket. “See this? It’s an alarm. My unit is coming and you two won’t make it out of here alive.”

“I guess we’re not done after all,” Maks tells me, and runs out the door with his sister.

Rhett looks back at me. The corners of my vision are dark, but I focus on his face. I remember him better now. At the hospital, soft and kind. Then, his voice in the alley and at headquarters. I can see him struggle between going after Maks and staying with me.

He stays.

Rhett groans as he lets himself collapse and take stock of his injuries. His nose bleeds freely from Maks’s sucker punch, and he presses the back of his hand to his nostrils to stop the flow. The skin over the ridge of his nose is split open and bruised around the bone.

I crawl over to him.

“Stop moving. You’re barely alive,” Rhett says. His voice is a deep, angry thread in the ringing in my ears.

I don’t know much about hunters, but I’m sure they don’t like when they get knocked to the ground by a member of the undead. He scoops me up and carries me into the kitchen, setting me down on the marble island. The cool stone is refreshing on my hot skin.

“I’ll be right back.” He hops on his good foot and stalks off toward the bathroom.

I assess my injuries with a weak pulse of magic. My left shoulder is dislocated from the impact against Rhett and the wall, though it would have been worse if I’d hit the stone floor. There’s a warm trickle of blood running down my temple. I touch it with heavy, trembling fingers. It’s a small relief that only the skin was broken when I slammed into the wall. I press my hand on my abdomen, where the injury that was healing has reversed again. Blood soaks through my cotton shirt. The skin around the stitches is hot and I’m sure if I look, I’ll see it’s splitting open again.

I pat down my pockets for my phone, but remember it’s plugged in the surveillance room at headquarters. Rhett’s heavy boots announce his return before I can see him turn the corner. There’s a first aid kit in his hands.

“What’s that going to do? Sinmago medicine doesn’t work on my kind.” I ask, laughing even though it hurts.

“Yes, but bandages will stop the bleeding until help gets here. I can’t exactly carry you in this condition on the subway.”