For a second, I don’t move.
I just stare at him, waiting for him to inhale again.
It never comes.
I haveno idea how much time has passed, but my hands are still shaking.
It feels like my chest has been ripped open.
“Fuck,” I whisper, voice breaking. “Fuck.”
My palm stays pressed to the wound even though I already know it doesn’t matter.
Because letting go feels like admitting it.
Admitting he’s gone.
Admitting I’m alone.
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a breath.
By the time I make it home, it’s nearly dawn.
The gate opens, and I park before heading into the house.
The guards straighten, and no one speaks because the blood on my shirt does all the talking.
I don’t remember walking through the foyer. I just remember Victoria’s footsteps rushing toward me.
Her hands catch my arm, fingers digging into my sleeve, as her eyes fly over my face and then down to where the blood is.
“Not mine.”
Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out at first.
We stare at each other for a second before she speaks. “Where’s Rafe?”
My throat locks.
I can’t answer.
The silence can answer for me.
Victoria’s body shakes as she takes my hand and guides me down the hall.
“Come on.” Her voice is low and careful, like a loud sound might shatter me. “Shower.”
My feet move because she makes them.
Next thing I know, the bathroom lights flick on.
Victoria turns the water on.
The sound fills the room, soft and steady. I step into the shower fully dressed.
She follows me in, also fully clothed. Together, we stand under the water as it runs down our bodies, washing away the blood.
The fabric of our clothes clings to us, but we don’t move. Hell, I don’t even blink. I don’t do anything except breathe.
