Chapter 92
Jace winced as the paramedic tightened the bandage around his forearm. The pain had finally started catching up with him.
Adrenaline had kept him moving while the fire raged through the workshop, but now that he was sitting inside the small clinic attached to the clubhouse, every muscle in his body seemed determined to remind him that he had almost been cooked alive.
The clinic smelled of antiseptic, rubbing alcohol, and the faint medicinal scent that always seemed to cling to the walls.
Mason stood beside the bed, checking the drip attached to Jace's hand.
He looked exhausted.
His shirt still had soot smeared across one shoulder, and there was a small cut near his temple from the chaos at the workshop.
He glanced at Jace.
"You know, most people spend their afternoons do
