Craving the biker's widow
Blood is everywhere, and it sends chills down my skin.
It’s soaked through his shirt and drips down the edges of the table, pooling on the floor in thick, dark patches.
Riley grabs a cloth….it’s already soaked through with blood—and presses both hands down on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
“Stay with me,” she mutters, her voice sharp now, urgent. “You hear me, Zob… stay with me, please…”
I watch carefully, my heart racing. “It’s not stopping the blood, Riley,” I say, almost panicking.
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