Chapter One Hundred and Forty-One
Cole
Cole knelt beside him and listened for breath like his life depended on it.
Because maybe not his, but Ahmet's did.
Ahmet's chest lifted shallowly, unevenly, like the body hadn't yet decided whether to stay or go. Blood seeped through his fingers where he pressed down, slick and impossible and warm in a way that made Cole's gut turn.
"Don't be stubborn now," he muttered under his breath, though he didn't know who he was speaking to.
He tore fabric from his own shirt and packed it against the wound, hard enough to make Ahmet gasp weakly. It was the first sound he'd made since he fell, and it tore through Cole like proof of life.
"Yeah," Cole said hoarsely. "Do that. Say something. Make a sound at least."
