Afterward, he holds me close, drawing me against his chest, our legs tangled together beneath the orange duvet. His breath comes warm and steady against the curve of my neck, and I can feel his heartbeat beginning to slow where my back presses against him.
His injured hand rests gently on my hip, careful even now, protective. The darkness of his apartment wraps around us like a cocoon, broken only by the soft glow of streetlights filtering through the bay window. I trace lazy patterns on his forearm, feeling utterly safe in a way I haven't felt in so long.
"I love you," he whispers.
My heart stops. Starts again. Races.
"I love you too."
And I do. God help me, I do.
But loving him terrifies me. Because everyone I've ever loved has either left or been taken.
And Daniel's still out there.
Watching. Waiting.
And I feel like this thing with Julian is too good to be true. I can't help but think that the other shoe's about to fall.
The truck's headlights fill our rearview mirror, blinding white, relentless. Julian's knuckles are bone-pale on the wheel, his jaw locked tight as he floors the gas pedal.
"He's not stopping," I scream, but my voice sounds underwater, distant.
The massive 18-wheeler bears down on us like something out of a nightmare—a metal monster fromMaximum Overdrive,all chrome and fury and malicious intent. Terror floods through me, ice-cold and paralyzing, turning my limbs to lead. My heart hammers against my ribs so hard I think it might crack through bone. This can't be happening. This can't be real. But the roar of the truck's engine is deafening, drowning out everything else, and I know with absolute certainty that Julian and I are about to die.
The truck slams into us—metal screeching, glass exploding. We spin, tires shrieking against asphalt. Then we're airborne, tumbling over the guardrail, falling, falling, the world a violent kaleidoscope of headlights and darkness and Julian's hand reaching for mine.
We hit bottom with a crunch that rattles my teeth. The car's upside down. My seatbelt cuts into my chest. Blood drips from somewhere I can't see.
"Julian?"
He's beside me, breathing hard, barely alive. Relief crashes over me in such a powerful, overwhelming wave that I almost sob. He's alive. He's breathing. He's here with me. The terror that had gripped my heart just seconds ago begins to ebb, replaced by a desperate, trembling gratitude that makes my entire body shake. Thank God. Thank God he's alive.
Then footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.
Daniel emerges from the shadows, axe gleaming in his hands. His face is calm, almost serene. Like he's been waiting for this moment his entire life.
"No." The word barely leaves my lips.
He doesn't acknowledge me. Just walks to Julian's side of the car and rips the door clean off its hinges.
"Liza, run—"
The axe comes down.
I scream, but no sound comes. My body's frozen, ice spreading through my veins, turning my blood to slush. I can't move. Can't breathe. Can't do anything except watch as Daniel swings again. And again.
Wolves howl in the distance, mournful and wild.
Julian's not moving anymore.
The devastation that crashes over me is unlike anything I've ever felt before—it's like my entire body has been hollowed out, scooped clean until nothing remains but this gaping, raw wound where my heart used to be.
I feel like I've died right alongside him, like some essential part of me has been severed and is bleeding out into the darkness. My arm moves without conscious thought, trembling violently as I reach across the wreckage toward him, my fingers stretching desperately through the twisted metal and broken glass, aching to touch him one last time.
Daniel turns to me, axe dripping crimson. His blue eyes are empty. Dead.
He raises the weapon high above his head, and I finally find my voice, shrieking—
