The rain hadn't stopped by the time Ivara stumbled back into her apartment, half-carrying the unconscious man. Her heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline the only thing keeping her moving as she kicked the door shut behind her. He was heavy — too heavy for someone so worn and broken. But she didn't let go.
"Come on," she whispered, half to herself, half to him. "Just a little more."
She guided him to the couch, his body slumping against the cushions. He was pale — deathly pale — and the blood soaking his shirt made her stomach twist. Ivara rushed to grab her first aid kit and a towel, her mind racing.
Who is he? What happened to him?
But none of that mattered right now. Right now, she needed to keep him alive.
When she knelt beside him again, she carefully pushed his soaked jacket aside — and froze.
A gun.
Nestled in a shoulder holster, sleek and deadly.
Her breath hitched, fear creeping up her spine. But she didn't stop. Shaking off the panic, she unbuttoned his bloodied shirt, her fingers brushing against the hard lines of his chest — and the deep gash on his side.
"You're crazy, Ivara," she muttered to herself. "Helping a man with a gun. Great life choices."
The stranger groaned softly, his head shifting. "You… shouldn't…" His voice was a broken whisper, but his hand reached out, catching her wrist again. Even weak, his grip was strong.
"Stop talking," she said, gently prying his fingers away. "You're losing too much blood."
His eyes fluttered open, dark and intense despite the fever. They held her captive — a storm of pain and danger and something she couldn't name.
"You don't know… what you're getting into," he whispered.
"Probably not," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "But I'm not going to let you die."
For a moment, he just stared at her. Then, his eyes slid shut again, his breathing ragged and shallow.
Ivara worked quickly, cleaning the wound and pressing a bandage against his side. She didn't know how long she sat there, the sound of the storm outside blending with the sound of his breathing.
When she finally leaned back, exhaustion tugged at her, but she didn't dare look away from him. Because even in his broken state, she could feel it — the weight of something dangerous.
And she had just invited it into her home.
~~~