“Emmy,” I say, her name tearing out of me.
She laughs, leaning closer, her lips brushing my ear. “What?”
The sound cracks through me.
That’s when it happens.
A sharp crack splits the air.
Not loud enough to register as danger at first, just another sound swallowed by the music. I feel the impact through her body before I hear it again. A second shot. Then screaming. Then chaos.
Her body jerks in my arms.
Warmth splashes across my hands.
Red.
Too much red.
“No,” I gasp, looking down as her fingers claw weakly at my shirt, eyes wide with shock, confusion bleeding into terror. There’s a dark bloom spreading across her chest, soaking into black fabric, growing faster than I can stop it.
My knees hit the floor with her still in my arms.
Time fractures.
The music cuts out completely, replaced by a high-pitched ringing that drills straight through my skull. People are running, screaming, scattering in every direction, but all I can see is her.
Emmy.
Her breath stutters, shallow and wet. Blood coats my hands as I press down on the wound, harder, harder, like force alone can undo what’s already been done.
“Stay with me,” I snarl, the words rough and desperate. “Look at me. Don’t you dare look away.”
Her eyes flutter.
Fear grips my spine, cold and absolute.
This is wrong.
This isn’t how it goes.
“I’ve got you,” I lie, my voice breaking as panic claws up my throat. “I’ve got you, Little Heaven. I won’t let this take you. I won’t.”
Her lips part, trying to speak. Blood bubbles at the corner of her mouth.
My hands shake.
For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do.
Sirens wail somewhere in the distance, too far, too slow, and I realise with sick clarity that this is what helplessness feels like. This is what it means to watch something precious slip through your fingers while you’re powerless to stop it.
Her head lolls against my shoulder.
“No,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers. “No, no, no,”
Her eyes lose focus.
The world collapses.
