The smell of fresh blood was one I knew I’d never be able to forget. I’d learned that in my time volunteering at the hospital, although I’d never thought I’d be reminded of it again so soon. I smelt it, like rusty metal, before my eyes could even process what had happened. I’d be thrown to the floor just in time, out of the way of the sharp blades. It wasn’t my blood, of that I was certain. He’d moved me so quickly, but my head hit the floor with a thud, leaving me with a pounding headache and blurred vision as I turned. Finding Alex on the floor, his hands were pressing against his own chest with eyes squeezed shut in pain. A look I’d only seen on his face once in my life, the night he was shot.
The leather from his suit had been ripped away, the once perfect skin beneath torn open with
