It lands like a punch to the chest. A memory slamming through the panic with the force of every time he’s ever said it—every whisper, every growl, every broken murmur when he was inside me and I was begging to be kept.
Viktor grips my face harder, dragging my gaze to his. “LOOK AT ME, PUP!” he growls, shaking the air between us. “HE’S NOT THERE.”
My breath stutters.
“HE’S ALIVE.”
Something cracks in my chest.
“HE’S AT THE HOSPITAL.”
My lips tremble. My vision swims.
“DO YOU HEAR ME??” Viktor roars, forehead almost slamming into mine from how close he is. “HE’S NOT ON THAT BUS. HE’S NOT DEAD.”
The fire roars behind him. But slowly, finally, through the ringing, through the terror, through the screaming still stuck in my throat, I hear him.
I hear him. And my whole body collapses with the force of it.“Where?!”I scream, gripping Viktor’s wrists.
His voice cuts through the smoke. “Ravensburg General.”
I look around. Really look. Shane, pale and shaking, foot wrapped in makeshift gauze. Mats with blood running from his nose, blinking like he can’t believe he’s alive. Cole, right behind me, arms still around my chest, holding me like a bomb. And Viktor, still gripping my face like he’ll shake the sanity back into me.
Damian’s not here.
He’s not on the pavement. Not on the gurneys. Not under the tarp. He’s not in the bus. He’s alive.
My body collapses. I slump in Cole’s arms and we sink to the pavement together, and I’m sobbing so hard it feels like my lungs are trying to climb out of my mouth. My face is wet and my hands won’t stop shaking.
“Shhh… you’re okay, curls,” Cole murmurs, stroking my back like I’m five years old and the world hasn’t just ended and restarted in thirty seconds.
“If I let you go…” he says softly, still panting in my hair, “are you gonna run toward the bus again?”
I shake my head violently. The answer isn’t just no—it’s a full-body refusal, the kind that bursts straight out of instinct. I wouldn’t survive it.
Cole exhales sharply beside me, the sound cutting through the air. “Don’t make me regret this,” he mutters, voice tight with something between fury and fear.
His arms loosen and the second they do, I bolt.
“CURLS!!” he screams after me, cracking, half-furious and half-petrified, but I don’t stop. My legs are already moving before my brain catches up, sprinting across the asphalt.
I launch myself toward the car, rip open the door, throw myself inside, slam it shut, and peel the fuck out of that parkinglot. Every light might as well be red. Every speed limit is a lie. Every second is a countdown I can’t bear to think about. Twenty minutes to the hospital? Fuck that. I make it in ten.
I don’t remember how I park. I don’t remember stopping the engine. My hands are numb, my knuckles white, and all I know is that the car isn’t moving anymore and somehow I’m still alive when he might not be.
I run through the sliding doors, my whole body shaking from adrenaline and grief and fury.
I slam into the desk at reception, hands slapping the counter. “Where is he?!” I shout, voice cracking so violently I sound broken. “Damian Kade! He was in the crash—I need to see him now!”
The receptionist blinks. Tight smile. Blonde ponytail. Bad fucking day to be in customer service.
“I’m sorry, sir—”
“Don’t say that.”
“—but we can’t release patient information unless you’re family—”
I see red. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” I roar, fists slamming down again, shaking the whole counter. “HE’S—”
