Vincenzo screamed as the cotton touched his wound. The sound ripped through the cold air like a knife. Seraphina quickly pressed her palm over his mouth, her heart pounding wildly.
“Shh, please… please don’t make a sound,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “You’re losing too much blood.”
He groaned, biting his lip to keep quiet. His breathing came in sharp, shallow gasps. The car smelled of gunpowder, sweat, and blood. She was trembling, her fingers sticky from his wound.
“God, Vincenzo, what do I do?” she muttered, tearing his shirt open with shaking hands. The fabric was soaked through, sticking to his skin. Her tears dropped onto his chest as she tried to clean the wound, but every touch made him jerk in pain.
“Vincenzo, don’t close your eyes! Look at me,” she begged, slapping
