"Locke... it's over," I say, feeling hysteria start. "Knox is dead. Vane shot him. Willow got me here, Locke. She got the knife... she cut me free.”
Despite me making very little sense, Locke looks up from me, his gaze shifting to Willow. The violent rage in his posture softens into something else. He nods once, a heavy, profound gesture of absolute gratitude.
"Thank you," he says. “Thank you, Willow.”
"Get Stitch out here now!" Cobra roars across the hall, his voice booming over the storm. "Clear the sofa! Move!"
Locke doesn't wait for anyone. He slides one arm beneath my knees and the other around my back, lifting me effortlessly against his chest, carrying me through the bar to the heavy sofa near the roaring stone fireplace.
He sets me down gently, dropping right back to his kne
