Hunted

The scent of blood pervaded freely in the cabin, inch by inch corroding William's nerves, every breath he took saturated with the metallic tang of blood. His face was stretched tight, his breathing ragged. "Move away." He barked at his subordinates standing beside him, followed by tearing open the blood-soaked shirt Valentina was wearing. What met his eyes was a gruesome mess of gore. Witnessing the deep wound on her shoulder, where bones were clearly visible, William's sanity hopped back and forth in absolute clarity and utter chaos. Thankfully, he managed to calm down. With pale lips, he hoarsely spoke, "It'll be okay." He didn't whether he was trying to comfort Valentina or himself. His hands were a whirlwind of motion. In addition to the shoulder wound, there were countless knife injuries across her body. He removed all her upper garments, and then carefully cleaned the blood traces. There was only one medical box in the helicopter. Kneeling in front of her, William began to apply