The real panic hit when her breathing began to slow. It was a primal, gut-wrenching terror that clawed at my insides, refusing to let go.
Where the fuck was Sean?!
“Emma, please,” I breathed into her ear, trembling as I held her tighter—too tight. I knew I could hurt her, but I was too terrified to let go. Her skin was like ice against mine, the warmth she once radiated gone, as if it had never existed at all. Her eyes hadn’t opened in what felt like eternity, and now her breathing—Gods, her breathing—was fading, each fragile inhale barely there.
I couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not when every part of me ached for her—bone, breath, and soul.
Not now. Not ever.
“Emma,” I choked, desperation splintering through my chest.We need to get out. We need to move.
“Focus on me—on the sound, on the pull. I’ll get us out, I swear, but you have to stay with me. Stay with me, baby, come on.”
But the only answer was the weak rise and fall of her chest, each breath shallower than the last.
And then?—
She stopped.
FORTY-FOUR
CADEN
She. Stopped. Breathing.
“No—Emma…!”
The sound tore out of me, raw and savage, ripped from the part of me that had never learned how to exist without her.
“Breathe—fuck, Emma,breathe!”
But she wasn’t.
She wasn’t doing anything.
I dropped to my knees, hovering over her, grabbing at her—arms, shoulders, face—anything I could touch, anything that still held a trace of warmth. My grip was too tight, and my hands were shaking.
“No.” My voice cracked. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to give up.”
Her skin—gods, her skin—had turned ghost-pale, lips edged with blue. My stomach twisted, bile burning its way up my throat.
She was slipping away.
No no no?—
Fuck. She needed oxygen. Now.
My mind scrambled, training and terror colliding, instinct fraying under the weight of panic. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe.
Do something. Move. Help her. Now.
My gaze fell to her lips—soft, perfect, and slightly parted, the color drained from them now, ice-cold where they should’ve been full and warm.
Never, in a million years, had I imagined the first time I’d feel those lips would be in a moment like this—desperately fighting to keep her alive. Not in some stolen kiss, not in the heat of a perfect moment, but with death creeping between us.
With trembling hands, I cradled her face and tilted her head back, my fingers grazing the curve of her jaw, the hollow of her throat—skin far too cold beneath my touch.
I tilted her head back slowly, fingers sliding into her hairline, combing through damp strands that clung to her temples. My breath caught as I leaned in, every inch between us vanishing.
