Bloodline [h.s.]

seven.

"Jack, what the hell are you doing?!"

My body failed me as I attempted to stand up to get Bridget away from the situation.

"Jacob, oh my god." She rushed to my side, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, don't worry. I'm alright." I tried again to get off the ground, "Let's go."

Peter came rushing in from the kitchen. The four other guys managed to talk Jack down. Bridget helped me up the stairs into her room. I let out a pained groan when we finally reached her bedroom. My nose was dripping blood into my hands. My entire chest and abdomen were throbbing.

"I'm so sorry. Let me see your face." She handed me tissues for the blood.

Releasing the pressure of my hands from my face helped my vision clear up.

"It's not too bad. It's not even swollen." I told her, seeing a minimal amount of blood on the tissue.

"What happened?" She led me to her bed.

"I was coming upstairs, and he confronted me. He made some comment about you. I ignored him, which set him off and he punched me. It really is fine. I can hardly feel it."

"I'm really sorry, especially because I know I told you not to confront him. Is that why you didn't defend yourself?" She asked.

"You are the only reason he is unharmed right now." I admitted.

Her hand ran up and down my back. I could not remember that last time I received this kind of comforting. It had to have been before my family died.

"Oh, I'm sure if it weren't for me, he wouldn't be breathing." She chuckled, making me laugh.

The laugh sent the sharpest pain I had ever experienced through my chest, sending an involuntary yell passed my lips. I inhaled, but the breath was not sufficient. Bridget's eyes were wide as my outburst startled her. I closed my eyes and focused on my training to stay composed.

"Are you okay?"  She lifted up my shirt to see where Jack punched me.

The right side of my abdomen and lower chest were opaquely red. The sight sent panic to Bridget's face. I pushed my shirt back down.

"I'm fine, love, don't worry." My voice was strained.

"I'm going to get you some ice."

"No, you shouldn't have to go back down there. I can get it." I said, painfully attempting to stand up. She gently pushed me back down to the bed.

"I'm not. There is an ice machine in the guest suite. I will be gone for less than a minute." She kissed me before leaving.

As the door shut behind her, it hit me that I was injured and vulnerable in the house of my enemy, the very last position I should be in. An internal conflict brewed in my mind. I was preoccupied with genuine concern for Bridget and felt guilty for it. I reasoned with myself that the concern did not I mean I had any true feelings for her. Therefore, it was a nonissue. The opening of her door took me out of my thoughts. She carried in two bags of ice.

"Take off your shirt." She instructed.

"I didn't realise that's the kind of sleepover we were having." I joked to break the worried frown on her face.