Page 88 of Jenna's Protector

Carter

Max.My loyal companion, the dog who’s been by my side since he was a pup, isn’t moving. He’s on his side; his fur matted and dark with something I don’t want to acknowledge staining the cold concrete.

I drop to my knees beside him, my hands shaking as I reach out to touch him.

Please. Please, don’t let him be…

“Max?” My voice is a broken whisper, a plea, and a prayer all in one.

His fur is sticky, warm, and wet beneath my fingers. The coppery scent of blood fills my nostrils, and bile rises in my throat.

“Max, buddy. Come on. Look at me.”

But his eyes are closed, his body still.

Too still.

I press my fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse, praying for any sign of life.

And there, beneath my fingers, a weak flutter. It’s thready, but there.

He’s alive.

Hurt but alive.

Relief crashes over me like a wave, staggering in its intensity, but it’s short-lived, chased by a fear colder and sharper than before.

If Max is here, hurt and bleeding, then where is Jenna?

What’s happened to her?

I look around, desperate for any sign of what might have transpired.

And then…Right there, her phone on the ground. Its screen cracked.

Shit.

I fumble for my phone again, my fingers slick with Max’s blood. I hit Walt’s number. The line clicks, and I don’t wait for a greeting.

“I found Max. He’s hurt. Bleeding. Jenna’s not here, but her phone is. She’s gone.”

Walt is silent for a beat, and then he sucks in a sharp breath. “Shit. Okay. Where are you?”

I give him the cross streets, my eyes never leaving Max’s still form. The line goes dead, and my phone falls from my hand. I cradle Max’s broken body against my chest. Hot blood seeps through my fingers, the coppery scent turning my stomach.

Quickly, I pull off my shirt, rip it into long strips, and do my best to bandage his wound. I gather Max into my arms and wait helplessly for Walt’s arrival.

“Hold on, buddy. Help’s coming. Just hold on.” I press my forehead to Max’s, my tears mingling with his blood.

A few minutes later, Walt’s vehicle screeches to a halt beside me. He leaps out. Malia is hot on his heels.

“Jesus Christ.” Walt’s eyes widen as he takes in the scene.

“Is he…?” Malia lets out a choked sob, her hand flying to her mouth.

I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. I gather Max closer, trying to shield him from their horrified gazes.

“We need to get him to a vet. Now.” Walt crouches down beside me, his hand on my shoulder.