Murphy was hurt worse than Connor. Or at least that was how it felt to Connor. The lighter-haired twin had taken a bullet in the arm, which was nothing, he thought. Sure it hurt, but it was easy to pull out, easy to wrap, and easy to move around afterwards. It was easy to convince himself it didn’t hurt.
He felt pain when he looked at his brother though. Murphy had taken a bullet in his torso. It had been lodged into his side, and the wound was robbing him of desperately needed blood. Connor knew what he would say. He would say he was fine, quit worrying about him, quit acting like a pussy and pull out the fucking bullet.