Chapter 18

M y head throbs with a relentless, pounding ache, as if my brain is trying to claw its way out of my skull. Nausea washes over me, and I'm trapped in a disorienting fog. I struggle to make sense of where I am, my eyelids heavy and uncooperative. Blinking again and again, I try to force my eyes open, but they're so fucking heavy.

Around me, I can hear the sounds of a hospital—soft murmurs, the beep of machines, and distant voices. Panic begins to claw at my chest as my heart races, the overwhelming sensation that something is wrong washing over me.

Desperation makes my insides twist as I attempt to move, but my limbs betray me, unresponsive and heavy. Fear takes hold as I realize that I'm trapped, unable to escape, to move.

What the fuck?

Am I dead?

Buried alive?

My heart hammers, and distantly, I hear something beeping wildly. That's a good sign, right?

I try to move again. Nothing.

Okay, bad sign. Bad, bad sign. I inhale slowly, and air shoves its way up my nose uncomfortably.

I think I groan or grunt.

Then I freeze.

That's progress. I inhale deeply again, getting another thick rush of air. This time, my groan is a gag turned cough.

Fuck yeah. I'm not dead. Dead people don't cough.

And then, it all rushes back. The parking lot, the chaos, the gunfire. The moment when I threw myself in front of that bullet to save Ella's life. Wrapping my body around hers, pulling her away from the pandemonium that erupted. The searing pain, the knowledge that I might not make it.

And the most haunting memory of all—the sadness etched on Ella's tear-streaked, freckled face as she sobbed and begged me to get up.

I think I told her I love her.

I feel my brows pull together. Another good sign.

I meant to tell her I love her.

"There's nothing to forgive. Nothing. There never was. I love you, Hunter. I do. I love you. I promise," she'd sobbed.

"It was always you," I promised.

The macabre slideshow of those moments replays in my mind, each frame etched with pain and love. The room spins around me, and my dry, cracked lips manage to form her name before I succumb once more to the unforgiving darkness, the weight of my actions, and the uncertainty of what comes next weighing heavily on my heart.

"Ella. "

I think I hear her speak, but before I can force myself to see if she's real, I get dragged back into nothingness.