Hell. This whole situation had gone from bad to worse in the matter of a few damn minutes. That sinking feeling was back, the one that told Regan that this might only be the beginning, he was worrying too much, but someone had to, right?
Make sure Silas was alright?
He fought back any urge to holler back that it was fucking obvious he wouldn’t be. More than likely Brandon knew that, so wordlessly Regan abandoned watching behind them for movement and moved towards Silas, taking in the gunshot wound. He’d seen a lot of things back when he had been a cop, enough to know that this wound wasn’t technically fatal, but if they didn’t get him back to the compound in time, the blood loss could be.
The tension he felt didn’t lessen as Brandon called for a retreat and Rae appeared on the ground next to Silas. Things were snowballing and they still had no idea where half their group was.
Not your problem right now. He chided himself, focusing instead on the situation at hand. The one where one of his best friend’s was in grave fucking danger of leaving this world.
Silas’s repeated assurance that he wasn’t going to die wasn’t nearly as comforting as his friend probably thought it was. But at least Rae wasn’t breaking down or not enough to make her useless here, which was a relief.
Every part of him wanted to assure them that everything would be alright, that Silas would be fine. But even he was enough of a realist to know he couldn’t guarantee that.
“Fuck,” Regan cursed as Silas passed out. Brandon was right, they needed to get him back to the compound and they needed to do it now. “Are you ready to move him?” He asked Rae quietly, trying to gage how she was dealing with this situation.