“You are such a techie, Hollywood,” Z muttered. “Right up there with Bill Gates.”

“Whatever. We need to get you and the civilian out—”

Z’s phone vibrated and he opened the text from Bella, holding his breath. After he read it twice, he shut his eyes hard and clipped the phone shut. Oh, God…no.

Propping his upper body off the dirt floor, he made a lurch to get on his feet. The shot of agony that ran up his leg helped to distract him from the sight of all the blood that had pooled underneath him.

“What the…”

“…fuck are…”

“…you doing…”

John signed what the other three were saying: What are you doing?

“I need to get home.” Dematerializing wasn’t an option because of his leg—which was making him want to throw up as it flopped around. “I need to—”

Hollywood shoved his perfectly beautiful face right in Z’s grille. “Will you just relax? You’re in shock—”

Z grabbed the male’s upper arm and squeezed to shut the brother up. He spoke softly, and when he was done, Rhage could only blink.

After a moment Hollywood said quietly, “Here’s the issue, though. You have a compound fracture, my brother. I promise we’ll get you back, but we need to take you to a doctor. Dead is not where you want to be, feel me?”

As a wave of light-headedness came swooping in from out of nowhere, Z had a feeling his brother had a point. But fuck it. “Home. I want—.”

His body collapsed. Just folded on him like a house of cards.

Rhage caught his weight and turned to the boys. “You two, carry him out of the tunnel. Move it. I’ll cover.”

Zsadist grunted as he changed hands and was hauled off like a deer carcass found in the middle of a road. The pain was a stunner, making his heart palpitate and his skin shiver, but it was good. He need the physical manifestation of the emotion trapped in the center of his chest.