For a split second everyone stared at him, as if they couldn’t figure out where all that blood had come from. “Stop the bleeding,” I said. Though I made no move to do it myself. The rat could die for all I cared. “That was a lead bullet. He’ll be fine.” Though he wouldn’t be talking—or challenging Adam—for a while. “When he’s stable, put him in the holding cell, where he can’t do any more harm.” Adam looked at me. “Trust you to bring a gun to a fistfight,” he said with every evidence of admiration. Then he looked at his pack. Our pack. “What she said,” he told them.
