Dane's POV:
The first shard bites into my shoulder like a needle dipped in fire.
The second one sinks deeper.
I feel them embed themselves, little teeth of glass lodged under skin, but it barely registers because Rain's face is right there in front of me, wide-eyed and white with terror, and that look drowns out everything else.
She's screaming.
Kicking.
Fighting in my arms like she can't decide.
Her hands fly to me, frantic, trying to check the wound, trying to fix me, but I can't hear her.
All I hear is ringing.
A thick, brutal sound that fills my skull until my head throbs with it, like my own pulse is trying to split bone.
There's dust everywhere.
Glass everywhere.
Grey grit from the window frame and the surrounding brickwork coats the floor and the counters, clinging to everything like ash.
The blast pressure knocked things sideways: a chair on its side, a picture frame shattered, the curtains whipping violently in the open air.
