POV: Zina
The night air hit like ice as we stumbled out into the alley, the sharp scent of blood and smoke clinging to my clothes. My legs ached, my chest burned, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. Not when Asher was barely breathing, his tiny body limp in Jared's arms.
Jared didn't complain, even though his face was swollen, and his shirt was soaked through with blood. He just held Asher tighter, cradling him like he was the most fragile thing in the world. His hands shook, and every few steps, he staggered like he might collapse.
"Give him to me," I whispered, reaching out.
Jared shook his head, jaw clenched. "I've got him."
"But you're hurt," I pressed, my voice breaking.
"I said I've got him."
