It was all a blur. Everything. Silas knew someone was talking at him. Brandon. Something about heroics, but he couldn’t keep it straight. It hurt, and it was cold, and he was still aware enough to realize that wasn’t good. “Sorry,” he mumbled, screwing his face up when his brain processed the word dying being said. “Not gonna,” he tacked on, slumping a little, grappling for his shoulder because it hurt, and he knew there was something he should be doing.
He was bleeding out. Fingers wet.
Then there was Rae next to Brandon, and Reg was there too. Why weren’t they fighting?
“Hey there, babe,” he slurred, eyes trying to find Rae, but going half-closed instead. “Not gonna,” he repeated without really knowing why. It was harder to concentrate, and it was getting colder. His vision was going black around the edges too. He dropped the hand that he’d had pressed to his shoulder, because his limbs were getting heavy.
And wasn’t that a fucking joke. Where was the super strength now? And why was everyone so panicked? He could hear it, they were still talking at each other, but he’d lost the focus to really pay attention. He was good where he was at. Bleeding sure, but it couldn’t be that bad.
The last thing he remembered was closing his eyes and slumping forward.