35. Daphne

Chapter thirty-five

Daphne

T he gunshot cracks through the air, a deafening explosion that shatters the silence. Before I can react, Alex bursts into the room, his arms encircling me in a protective shield. A wave of terror washes over me as I feel the bullet’s heat brush across my cheek.

Time seems to stretch in slow motion. The world tilts as we hit the ground, Alex’s body collapsing on top of mine. Pain explodes along my right hip, and I gasp, stars dancing in my vision. I push past the pain, my mind racing.

Because it’s Alex who dashed into the bathroom. Alex who shielded me from the bullet with his own body.

Hands wrapping around his body over mine, I hug him close. “Alex?” my voice muffles against his chest. His heart hammers beneath my ear, a powerful, rhythmic beat that fills me with a mixture of relief and fear.

He’s alive .

The realization washes over me in a wave of gratitude so intense it almost overwhelms me. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, so utterly grateful for another person’s life.

Alive.

The scent of sweat and cologne fills my senses, grounding me even as panic claws at my throat.

“Shh, Daphne, I’ve got you.” His voice is strained, his breath hot against my hair.

Oh, thank God. It sounds so nice to hear his voice.

Suddenly, I remember my mother. I clench Alex’s chest, but then the door creaks open again.

It’s Victoria who rushes in while my mother gapes at me and Alex.

Victoria slams into my mother, knocking her against the wall. Tile breaks from Mom’s skull smashing against it.

In the matter of seconds, she lies crumpled on the floor, Victoria standing over her, gun in hand, her face etched with fury and determination.

Victoria, who has never hidden her contempt for me, now holds my mother at bay.

“Victoria, are you good?” My voice trembles as I gaze up at her, my fingers still pressed firmly against Alex’s chest .

She nods, stern and composed amid the chaos. “Yeah, I already called the police and EMS.”

Who would have known that I’d want to be like her when I grow up?

Safe, I can’t tear my eyes from Alex. His heavy body presses against mine.

I cling to him, our bodies tangled in desperation. The world beyond our cocoon of anguish falls away: the threat of my mother, the echo of the gunshot, the horror of what might have been. It all fades until there is only the fierce embrace of the man who has just saved my life.

That is, until his eyes close and a sticky warmth spreads between us. A sharp tang of blood fills the air next. “Alex?”

I pull back just enough to see a dark stain blossoming across his chest.

She shot him!

“Alex!” The scream rips from my throat, raw and terrified.

I wiggle out from under him, my hands shaking as I press them against the wound, trying to stem the bleeding.

“Stay with me, please. Stay awake.”

“What’s wrong?” Victoria asks, still holding my mother at gunpoint.

“H-he’s been shot. Alex, please, wake up. ”

His eyelids flutter, and for a moment, the world teeters on the edge of an abyss. Then he opens his eyes. Pain lances through my chest, not from injury but from the love that surges to meet his gaze.

“Baby,” he whispers, his voice a thread of sound but as beautiful as any melody I’ve ever played on my harp.

Tears mix with laughter. “I love you,” I tell him, over and over. “I love you so much.” Too fearful to turn my head away from him, I inform Victoria, “Bleeding, but he’s awake right now. How long ago did you call 9-1-1?”

“Fuck. Okay, okay.” Panic laces her voice. “I called the second Alex barged into the bathroom. Should be on their way. Just take care of him; I’ll focus on your bitch of a mother.”

His eyes flutter, but he remains awake.

“Okay,” I whisper. My hands are slick, but I press harder.

“Love you,” he gasps.

“Shh, save your strength.” A sob catches in my throat, but I swallow it down. “I love you too. More than anything. Just stay with me, please.”

Luckily, the wail of sirens finally arrive. I clutch onto Alex in anticipation of help.

After what feels like hours, the world outside the bathroom door bursts into life. “In here!” I shout. Police officers and paramedics flood in. They find Victoria, gun still in hand, and my mother dazed on the floor. Alex lies nearby, gunshot wound visible. We’re huddled together, clinging to each other.

“Let’s get him onto a stretcher,” one paramedic says.

As they lift Alex, I refuse to let go. His grip is weak but there, and it’s everything. Victoria reaches for my other hand, her touch surprisingly gentle.

We move through the hallway, a procession marked by urgency and sorrow. The air is thick with a metallic scent of fear.

Outside, night has fallen, wrapping us in its cool embrace as we emerge into the blinding lights of the waiting ambulance.

Tears blur my vision as the EMS workers swarm around Alex, their movements swift and practiced.

“Is he going to be okay?” My voice cracks over the words. I reach out, needing to touch him, to assure myself he’s still with me.

His eyes are closed, but he’s moaning. A sheer of sweat drips down his forehead. I brush my fingertips against his soaked hair.

One of the female EMS workers, her hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, meets my gaze. “You did good, hon,” she says, nodding at me before continuing. “Applying pressure slowed the bleeding. You gave him a fighting chance.” She then checks his straps to prepare him for the rig .

I did my best during the circumstances, but Alex and Victoria are the real super-stars. If it wasn’t for them, I’d be dead. We’ve had our difficulties, but when it really mattered, both Whitmore siblings pulled through for me. They risked their lives for me.

I have to tell Victoria this. Just as how I love her brother, I appreciate her help just as much.

“Victoria, I—” A shrill scream interrupts me.

Celeste bursts on the scene, her heels clacking on the asphalt. “You idiot!” she shouts. Expecting her to be talking to me, I whip my neck and brace myself for her fury. After all, it’s my mom who shot Alex.

If I had told someone about Mom’s letters, I could have stopped all this. Trust me, I’m just as angry at myself as Celeste is.

“You idiot!” Celeste repeats, except she’s not headed towards me. “You were supposed to get Daphne, not Alex!” Celeste stands at the edge of chaos while my mother, handcuffed and wild-eyed, stares back at her with an unhinged glare.

Everything clicks.

Mom knew exactly where I was tonight. Just how, months ago, she knew my address to send me letters. It’s because Celeste fed her information. All to get rid of me so she could be with Alex.

Hell, she planned on consoling Alex right here, right now, after my mother shot me . I know so because, just like Alex, Celeste is supposed to be at the fundraiser right now.

In a hoarse whisper, I ask, “Y-you orchestrated this?”

“Always the victim, huh, Daph?” Celeste’s bleached hair flutters in the wind as she continues her tirade. Her nose crinkles with hatred. “It’s all your fault!”

Is it? I’m doubting myself again when, still on the stretcher, Alex mumbles before squeezing my hand. His gentle hand brings me back. I didn’t shoot the gun, and I’d never do anything to willingly put anyone in danger.

Victoria must share my sentiments because a guttural growl rips from her. “You fucking bitch!” She lunges, all dark hair and fury, but an officer’s arms encircle her waist just shy of contact.

“Whoa there, little lady. Don’t worry, we’ll handle it,” he reassures, pulling her back.

“Handle this, then!” Victoria shouts, jerking her head towards Celeste. Her eyes burn with a rage that could set the world alight.

Celeste’s oversized lips part in shock as another officer steps forward, the silver of the cuffs reflecting the ambulance lights. They snap around her slender wrists with a sound that reverberates through the tense air .

As they lead her away, I can’t tear my eyes from the scene, a car crash of emotions tumbling inside me. My mother and Celeste bound by their hatred and envy.

“Let’s go, Daphne.” Victoria’s voice is softer now, her anger momentarily subdued by the gravity of our shared pain.

“Thank you,” I manage, the words hollow. I’m not going to fully believe he’s going to be okay until he’s all stitched up and walking out the hospital doors.

As they load him onto the stretcher, I slide in beside him, the cold metal hard against my hip. His skin is too pale under the fluorescent lights, but he’s alive. That’s all that matters.

My fingers entwine with his, holding on as if I could anchor his soul to his body. He murmurs something I can’t quite hear, but he’s trying to stay awake. Meanwhile, the paramedics gather blood and examine his wound.

I never release Alex’s hand. The steady beat of his pulse beneath my fingertips is the sweetest thing I’ve ever felt.

Victoria’s car follows behind. I lean close to Alex, my lips brushing his ear. “I’m here, my love, and I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

My heart aches. Each beat is a plea for him to fight, for us to survive this nightmare together.