I try to keep my face blank, but inside, I’m screaming.
Using my free hand, I try to work on the other wrist, but I can’t seem to reach the right angle.
Time stretches. Minutes or seconds pass, my vision fading in and out of darkness. It’s like I’m going into shock, drowning in fear.
Ryker has his gun drawn, waiting.
In an instant, the door bursts open, light bursting through. Dominic charges through first, his gun raised, with Morales right behind him. Seconds later, more uniforms enter the room. My breath catches, relief and terror colliding in my chest.
“Ryker!” Dominic shouts, his voice booming. “Drop the weapon. Now.”
For a split second, everything is still. The air is heavy, so thick I can’t see through it.
Everything happens so fast. Screams, commands, so many voices I can’t make sense of it all.
A shot sounds, piercing through the air, followed by my blood-curdling scream as I watch Dominic’s lifeless body fall to the ground.
CHAPTER 58
Elyse
A FEW SCRAPES AND BRUISES
PRESENT
It smells like pee.
My legs bounce, knees jittering in a rapid rhythm as I sit in the hard chair next to Dominic’s bed.
He’s hooked up to all kinds of monitors, but the only one keeping me from spiraling is the steady beep of his heart rate.
He’s alive.
He’s alive, and that’s all that matters.
Maybe if I repeat it enough, I’ll actually believe it.
The doctors said he’s okay. The bullet grazed him, on the edge of his vest, and didn’t do any serious damage. They’ve said it enough times, but it’s like my brain can’t process it. My lungs burn with anxiety, and every breath feels like I’m choking.
Nervously, I twist the necklace around my neck. The one that Morales—of all people—managed to find in the rubble. I forced her into a hug after she gave it back to me, and I think that means we’re friends now.
Dominic’s been drifting in and out of consciousness fromthe pain meds. About an hour ago, the nurse said they were starting to ease him off the morphine drip and expected him to wake up soon.
I stare at him. At how pale his skin looks, at the thick white bandage stretched across his shoulder—what was formerly his good shoulder. His lashes rest against his cheeks, unmoving, his chest rising and falling slowly.
My eyes have been stuck in a constant haze of moisture.I keep blinking, wiping them away, but they continue coming. Not the kind that fall in heavy sobs—the quiet kind that leaves your skin raw.
Reaching out, I wrap my hand over his, needing to touch him, to feel his warmth.The moment our hands meet, he stirs.
His fingers twitch beneath mine, a small, almost imperceptible movement. Then his brows pull together, a faint crease forming between them.
“Dominic?” I whisper, leaning in, holding my breath.
He blinks slowly, lashes fluttering, and then—finally—his eyes open. They’re hazy and unfocused, but they’re open.
He’s awake.
“Hey,” I say, a watery smile breaking across my face. “Good morning.”
