Adam couldn't believe the bastard shot her. He'd shot Laura, but she wasn't dead. Yet. If he didn't stop the bleeding, though, she wouldn't last more than a few minutes.
What to do? If he attacked the general, she would bleed out. But if Adam stemmed the blood, he left himself vulnerable.
The analytical part of his brain insisted she'd die no matter what he did, but his heart insisted there was only one viable choice.
Dropping to his knees, he ignored the general and the threat he posed to press his hands against the hole in her shoulder, the warm, slippery wetness of her blood frightening against his skin.
Prone beneath him, Laura didn't say a word. She didn't have to. Her eyes, wide with shock, said it all.
He could have sworn he heard her say, Why? You should have saved yourself. He knew she said it, and yet her lips never moved.