I walked to Lewis's side.
Only then did I notice Silas lying on the floor near my feet.
Blood soaked through his shirt. His face was swollen beyond recognition. No one had treated him. He looked like something discarded after a fight for territory.
Earlier, I had only glanced at him.
Now I allowed myself to really look.
His injuries were worse than before. After the police left, someone must have dragged him into a blind corner and beaten him again. The scent of blood was thick. Heavy.
He lay there barely moving, chest rising so faintly it was almost invisible.
I widened my eyes on purpose.
"Oh my God," I said softly. "Is he dead? He's covered in blood. That's terrifying."
"No," Fiona replied lazily, examining her polished nails. "He's still breathing. Barely."
"How can we just let him lie there?" I insisted. "What if he dies here? We need a doctor."
I would never let him die that easily.
He owed me.
He had taken my life once. That debt was still unpaid.
