No matter how hard I try, I can’t hear or get to her.
I push and pull people out of my way, but more of the fuckers keep appearing out of nowhere.
Then I see her.
She’s crying, her face twisted in fear, and something inside me snaps. Rage—raw and blinding—explodes in my chest, hotter than I’ve ever felt before.
Ihaveto get to her.
Ihaveto do it now.
I push forward, throwing my entire weight into the crowd, shoving, ramming, roaring. My body slams into shoulders, elbows dig into my ribs, nails scratch at my arms, but I don’t stop.
She’s calling for me. I know she is. But her voice is swallowed by the chaos.
The sea of fans sways, crushing her in their madness. She’s tossed around like she doesn’t even matter.
Then I see it.
One of those bitches pushes her hard, and she stumbles, her footing lost.
She’s falling…
… toward the road.
“Dee!”Her name rips from my throat, raw and useless against the roar of the crowd. She doesn’t hear me, she can’t. She’s disoriented, swallowed by the sea of people pressing forward, screaming, reaching. I see her stumble, one hand reaching outfor balance, the other clutching the ring I just slid onto her finger.
The same hand I kissed when I told her I loved her—for the first damn time.
And now she’s slipping beyond my reach.
The crush of bodies surges between us, an ocean of flashing lights and camera phones. I shove, claw, curse, anything to get closer. My heart’s hammering so hard it feels like it might crack a rib. “Move!MOVE!”But they don’t hear me, not really. All they see is the rockstar losing his shit, not the man watching his whole fucking world unravel.
Then—movement behind her.
Headlights.
A van, barreling through the chaos, horn blaring, tires screaming.
Fast.Too fucking fast.
“DEE!”I roar, but my voice disappears into the noise.
Everything slows—the kind of slow that’s cruel. My lungs seize. My legs won’t move fast enough, no matter how hard I push. Every step feels like I’m running underwater. I watch her turning, eyes wide, confused, framed in the harsh white light.
And then my heart stops with the impact.
The sound hits first, a collision that cracks through the air like thunder. Metal meets flesh. The world lurches as I watch Dee’s body fly through the air.
For one impossible heartbeat, she looks weightless, her hair catching the light, her arms flung wide like a broken angel. Then she hits the asphalt with a sickening thud that tears through me like shrapnel.
Screams explode. There are gasps and chaos. Someone drops their phone. Someone else starts crying. None of it feels real.
All I can see is the smear of red spreading across the pavement.
And then—God help me—something metallic from the van’s roof rack dislodges, spinning end over end before slicing through the air.
I watch, helpless as it slices straight through Dee’s stomach. Mine falling right through the pits of hell at the sound it makes.
