Caleb's POV
That Changes Nothing
Bailey holstered his weapon with deliberate slowness, his expression carrying no trace of remorse. "I was hoping we could avoid this mess," he said, his voice flat as concrete. "Despite what you might think, causing you pain wasn't my intention."
My eyes never left his face, even as Bonita crawled pathetically back to his side like a wounded animal seeking shelter. She wasn't the threat here. This man was. I'd been concerned about the wrong person entirely, never imagining Bonita would have backup, especially not a Colonel.
"Yet here I am, bleeding from your bullet," I growled through gritted teeth, still kneeling on the cold floor. My palm pressed hard against the wound in my thigh, trying to stem the flow of blood. I could feel the healing process beginning, which presented its own problem.
The metal was still buried deep in my flesh. If the wound closed now, it would trap the bullet inside, creating complications I couldn't afford.
