Don't follow, I'm lost

Corvina sank against the cold stone wall of the mausoleum, her breath coming out flat and quick. Her clothes were sticking to her sweat-damp skin and the metallic scent of blood clung to her senses - partially from the men she just escaped from, the other part from the bullet wound in her right upper arm with the metal still stuck in her arm. "Fucking assholes", she cursed between clenched teeth, wriggling her dagger out of her boot. With all the bad luck she had, at least it didn't hit something important, just flesh. While it hurt like hell, she wasn't worried about not surviving it. The men had interrupted a deal and with her short fuse, it had escalated quickly. Fists and bullets soon rushed through the air, but she was quickly outnumbered and despite her pride taking a dent, she had to retreat and they didn't make it easy, followed her down all the way to the harbours, where one of them aimed a bit too well and the bullet struck true. The woman lost her footing and tumbled into the water, but that was to her advantage. The guys were convinced she would drown, not having seen where exactly she was injured and turned off. She had clung to one of the boats until the steps disappeared and then borrowed it to make her way to Black Veil. Here she found nothing but quiet, solace and most importantly - the things she needed to tend to her wound in peace. As she dragged herself to the mausoleum she used to live in, she was soon met by the army of crows begging for food. And yes, she had missed them, but given her abrupt departure from the city, she hadn't brought anything and had to dismiss them: "I'll bring you something later, okay?" With that, she slipped into the building. It looked exactly like when she left it. Some old notes and letters scattered around, clothes she didn't take with her, the sleeping space in the corner and the bag with alcohol, clean rags and bandages, most importantly. Corvina took a moment to breathe in the familiar air of the cool mausoleum, memories of times long past surfacing in her mind. How she found a safe haven on the abandoned graveyard at the tender age of sixteen, an unexpected refuge from the world that tried to kill her. Also where she brought AJ after catching him vandalizing one of the tombstones, not knowing he would become one of the most important people in her following years. "No time for dwelling in sentiments", she called herself to order sharply and walked over to the bag, pulling out a bottle of alcohol and uncorking it, before spilling a portion of it over the blade of the dagger, then the wound, reacting with a sharp hiss to the sudden burning sting. After taking a few steadying breaths she started to methodically loosen the bullet with the dagger, occasionally flinching when the salt of sweat met the would, but after some time the metal landed on the floor with a clunk.