Axel and Atticus see me on the floor, barely able to stay conscious as blood oozes from my head and my mouth, my vision swimming in and out while the room tilts like it can’t decide which way is up, and the sound of my own breathing feels too loud in my ears.
“You get him.” Axel orders, his voice sharp and controlled in a way that tells me he’s barely holding it together.
“Gladly.” Atticus answers, already moving.
Axel is at my side in an instant, dropping to his knees and sliding an arm under my shoulders to help me sit up, but the moment he shifts me, his breath catches and his hands still, his expression changing as he finally sees the bruising, the swelling, the blood that won’t stop. “No.” He mutters, more to himself than to me, and he eases me back down carefully, one hand cradlin
