Wendy's POV
I should have seen the signs earlier. But my focus was entirely on putting distance between us and those fanatics, and I missed what was right in front of me.
Javier has been moving differently since dawn broke. His gait lacks its usual confidence, each step more labored than the last. His shoulders stay rigid, and when he thinks I'm not watching, his hand drifts to his ribs. I chalked it up to exhaustion or the mental toll of our encounter in the forest. Mortals carry trauma differently than my kind.
Now I understand how wrong I was.
"Javier?"
He pivots toward me, forcing that familiar lopsided grin. "What's up?"
The facade crumbles as he staggers. For a split second, he seems suspended in air. Then gravity claims him, and he crashes to the earth.
"Javier!" I reach him before his name stops echoing. His chest rises and falls in rapid, shallow movements. The metallic tang of blood saturates the air around us. Fresh blood. Mortal blood. And something else entirely.
