#nova devain

Fane fell against the dumpster. He dropped his head back against the metal and groaned. Fane should have known that the job wasn't going to go in his favour. He should have seen the fucking warning signs. He hated doing retrieval jobs. He should not be here.

Fane grabbed at his side and groaned. He felt the blood running down his hands. It would, for the next few minutes, ten to fifteen minutes, probably. He'd lay low here until the bioplastic blood vessels did their job, sealing off the gunshot wounds and healing over.