Cassian is still on his knees when Vincent's voice echoes through the abandoned building. "A touching reunion. A shame it's the last one you'll ever have."
Cassian shoves me behind him with bruising force, his body becoming a shield, one arm pinning me back so hard I can barely breathe.
We're trapped. The room has one entrance, and Vincent fills it with a dozen armed men fanning out like wolves closing in.
Vincent's gaze lands on me—torn clothes, blood still drying on my skin. His lip curls with disgust so pure it's almost physically painful to witness.
"My daughter," he says, venom stripping his voice raw. "Look what he's made you. Kneeling in filth with a murderer like some common whore."
His eyes scan the bodies scattered across the floor. "Your mother would be sick."
The words ignite something in me. Terror transforms into cold, crystalline rage that burns through my veins like ice.
I step out from behind Cassian, ignoring his desperate attempt to pull me back. "My mother would understand choosing love over blood."
I meet Vincent's eyes, refusing to flinch. "That's why you killed her."
Vincent's face twists, the mask of civility shattering completely. "You little bitch. Kill them both!"
The room erupts into chaos. Gunfire explodes from every direction, deafening, the muzzle flashes lighting up the darkness like lightning.
Cassian shoves me toward one of the fallen attackers. I hit concrete hard enough to drive the air from my lungs.
"Gun!" he roars, already diving for his own weapon.
My hands close around the dead man's pistol without thinking. It's slick with blood that's still warm, but solid and deadly in my grip.
Time slows to something thick and heavy. Every sound becomes distinct—the crack of gunfire, the wet thud of bodies hitting concrete.
Cassian is at my back. We move together without speaking, our bodies finding that perfect synchronization. A deadly dance we've practiced a hundred times, but now it's real.
He fires. A man drops with a hole between his eyes.
I aim, squeeze. Another goes down, clutching his throat as blood sprays.
Back to back, we're lethal. Bodies fall around us. The room fills with smoke that burns my lungs and the copper smell of blood.
Then I see it through the haze.
Vincent raises his gun. Not at Cassian. At me.
Our eyes lock. He's smiling, and the triumph in that smile makes my blood run cold.
Time stops. Everything freezes in this crystalline moment.
I see everything in devastating detail. The gun barrel, black and infinite. His finger on the trigger, knuckle white with pressure. The way his smile widens, knowing that killing me will destroy Cassian more completely than any bullet ever could.
I can't move. Can't breathe. Can't do anything but watch that finger squeeze.
"Esther!" Cassian's voice cuts through everything.
He throws himself between us with no hesitation, no thought for himself. Just love and terror and the absolute certainty that he won't let me die.
The shot is thunderous.
I watch it happen like I'm underwater. The muzzle flash burning into my retinas. Cassian's body jerking with impact, his face contorting. The way his eyes go wide, shocked.
A bloom of red spreads across his chest. Dark, spreading fast. Too much blood.
"No." The word rips out of me.
He staggers but doesn't go down. Not yet. His gun comes up, steady despite the blood pouring from his chest.
Three shots. Clean, precise, professional.
Vincent's chest explodes red. He collapses face-first into concrete.
Then Cassian falls.
I catch him, or try to. His weight takes us both down. My knees hit concrete and something cracks, but I don't feel pain. Can't feel anything but terror.
"No, no, no." My hands press against the wound. Blood wells between my fingers, hot and pulsing and too fast.
He's dying in my arms.
"Stay with me." My voice breaks. "Cassian, stay with me."
His eyes are unfocused, pupils blown wide. His hand touches my face, leaving a red smear. "You're... okay?"
"I'm fine." I press harder, trying to stop the bleeding. It doesn't stop. "You're going to be fine."
"Liar." He smiles, teeth stained red. "Always... such a bad liar."
From across the room, Vincent laughs. A wet, gurgling sound.
"The legend," he chokes out, blood bubbling from his lips. "The curse. He dies for love... like they all do."
Something sparks in the corner with a sharp crack. The dry wallpaper catches with a whoosh. Fire spreads fast, casting everything in hellish orange light.
"We have to move." I try to lift him. He's too heavy, deadweight.
"Leave me." His eyes are closing. "Get out."
I slap him. Hard. His eyes fly open, shocked.
"You don't get to die on me." My voice is steel wrapped in desperation. "Not after you just saved my life. You swore to protect me."
I get under his arm, haul him up with strength born of pure terror. "Now it's my turn."
He's fading. I can feel him getting heavier with each step, his consciousness slipping away.
The smoke chokes me, burning my lungs. Fire roars behind us, heat scorching my back.
I drag him onto the rotted porch. Fresh air hits my lungs and I gasp.
Tires screech. Rafael's car slides to a stop, door flying open.
"Hospital!" I scream. "Now! He's dying!"
Rafael and another man haul Cassian into the back seat. I climb in after, pulling his head into my lap.
"Vincent?" Cassian whispers, eyes barely open.
The car is already moving, Rafael driving like a man possessed.
"Dead." I stroke his face. "You killed him."
He tries to smile. Blood trickles from his mouth. "No. You did... the moment you chose me."
Then his eyes roll back. His body goes completely slack.
"No." I check his pulse. Nothing. No heartbeat, no breath. "No, no, NO!"
I shove Rafael's man aside, lay Cassian flat. My hands find his chest, link together.
Compressions. Hard and fast, pushing down with all my weight, feeling ribs flex.
"Don't you dare." I breathe for him, seal my mouth over his and force air into his lungs. "Don't you fucking dare leave me."
Blood covers everything—my hands, his chest, the leather seat beneath us. My palms slip in it as I compress, leaving red handprints each time I reposition, but I don't stop, can't stop.
"Breathe." Compress, compress, compress. My arms scream with the effort, muscles burning. "Breathe, goddamn you."
Rafael's voice cuts through from the front seat, tight with fear I've never heard from him. "Five minutes out."
"He doesn't have five minutes!" My voice cracks into a scream, raw and desperate.
Compress. Breathe. Compress. His chest rises with my breath—a grotesque puppet show where I'm both strings and master—then falls limp the moment I pull away. No pulse beneath my searching fingers, no response, no sign that he's still in there fighting.
"Come back." Tears stream down my face, hot against my cheeks, mixing with his blood and mine. "Cassian, come back to me. Please."
My hands ache so badly I can barely feel my fingers anymore. My arms burn with lactic acid, threatening to give out, but I don't stop, don't slow, don't give up for even a second.
"Hospital!" Rafael's shout pierces through my focus.
The car screeches to a violent stop that throws me forward. Doors fly open, and suddenly medical staff are swarming, reaching for Cassian, reaching for me.
They try to pull me away from him, their hands on my shoulders. I fight them like a wild animal, clawing at their scrubs, screaming until my throat tears. "Don't stop compressions! Don't you dare stop! He needs—"
Strong arms wrap around me from behind, pinning my arms. Rafael. "Let them work, Esther. Let them save him."
They wheel him away at a run, the gurney's wheels clattering over the pavement. The automatic doors slide open, swallow him whole, and then they're moving through the emergency entrance.
I lunge forward, but a nurse steps into my path, her hand firm against my chest. "I'm sorry. Family only beyond this point."
"I'm his wife." My voice doesn't sound like mine anymore—raw and broken and barely human.
She takes in my appearance with widening eyes. Blood-soaked from head to toe, my dress torn and hanging off one shoulder, wild eyes that have seen too much death in too short a time. I look like something that crawled out of hell.
"Ma'am, you need medical attention too. You're injured, you're in shock—"
"I need my husband." I'm shaking so hard my teeth chatter, my whole body trembling with shock and adrenaline crash and pure, undiluted terror. "I need him to live. Please."
The doors swing shut between us with a final, terrible click. A barrier I can't cross, a wall that separates me from the only person who matters.
He can't die. He can't leave me. Not after everything we survived to find each other.