Rafe’s eyes open a little further, and he glances down, squeezing her fingers. “Stasi.”
She needs proper rest. So I lean down, my hand stroking against her arm. “Stasi?”
And then I stop. A foreboding steals into my chest, sealing up my lungs as I jump from her arm to her forehead, frantically feeling the familiar touch of fever beneath my fingers.
“Fucking hell.” My voice is shaking. “Stasi.”
She doesn’t respond. Her head lolls to the side when I tilt it.
Kit reaches past me to check, his hand trembling as he feels for himself. “But her breathing… her breathing is fine.”
I drop down, pressing my head against her chest. And my eyes close at the slow, almost silent rattle. “No, it’s fucking not.”
No. No. No.
It’s a chant inside my head as Kit and I lift her, lift her onto the mattress Kit’s only just left next to Rafe. Her head flops to the side.
How long has she been like this? Without water, without anyone to watch over her?
Kit is on her other side, Rafe struggling to pull himself up. “Silas.”
And his voice… it’s full of terror. I press my fingers to her pulse.
And my own stutters at the complete and utter lack of anything beneath my touch.
She’s dying in front of us.
“Compressions,” I choke out. “Thirty, then air.”
I lock my fists into position.
Push down, hard.
Again.
Again.
As I count, inside my head.
Don’t you leave me.
Don’t you dare.
Not when we’ve just found you again.
Not when we have so much more ahead of us.
Don’t you fucking dare leave me, Anastasia.
I stop, and Kit covers her mouth and nose, pushing the air into her lungs as her chest inflates. Rafe staggers next to us, dropping to his knees.
I check her pulse. “Again.”
I have so many plans for us.
For all of us.
A lifetime of memories to give you.
