~LAYLA~
"You're wounded," I gasped, already moving to the backseat. My hands immediately went to press over the red patch spreading across Axel's shirt.
"I'm fine," he said, but his voice was strained.
"You're not fine. You're bleeding." I pressed my hands against the wound, applying pressure. Warm blood seeped between my fingers. "Rodriguez, where are we going? Home? Hospital?"
"Can't go to a hospital," Tye said, his own voice tight with pain. "Bullet wounds mean police reports, and questions. We'd have to explain everything."
"Then what do we do? You both need medical attention!"
"I know a doctor," Tye said. "One who doesn't ask questions. But if we drive all the way home, he's too far from our current location. We need somewhere in the downtown area, closer to where he is."
My mind raced, searching for options. Then it clicked.
"Helena."
"What?" Axel asked.
