I look at her properly for the first time.
“Ayla?”
No answer.
Just her breathing—shallow now.Tooshallow.
Something cold opens up under my ribs.
“Beda?”
My hand leaves her neck to catch her jaw, turn her face toward me.
Her skin is cold.
Too cold.
My eyes drop. Her shirt is soaked.
Not splattered.
Soaked.
Black shirt darker and wet at the stomach.
For one second, my brain refuses to understand what I’m looking at.
Then I see it.
Blood still coming.
Fresh.
A hole torn through fabric. Everything inside me comes apart.
“No.”
The word rips out of me.
I jerk the wheel hard, taking the next turn too fast, my hand flying from her face to slam against the wound.
She flinches.
That’s worse.
That’s so much worse.
“No,no, no—”
My voice is gone now. Destroyed. I press harder, driving one-handed like a man possessed, the car fishtailing just enough to scream under me before I force it straight again.
“Stay awake.” I’m shouting now. At her. At God. At the fucking universe. “Stay awake, Ayla. Look at me.”
Her lashes flutter. Blood slicks hot between my fingers.
Too much.
Way too much.
