The city glows beneath the bruised sky, blurred by the steady drizzle. Cars move like slow streams of light below, steady and distant, as if the whole world is catching its breath after the storm that nearly swallowed us.
I sit beside Jacob's hospital bed, my fingers laced through his, refusing to let go even for a moment.
He survived.
Barely.
And sometimes, late at night, when the machines beep too softly and his breaths come too slowly, a cold fist wraps around my heart and squeezes until I can't breathe. Because I almost lost him. Because for a full minute, I thought I had.
The memory still hits me like a punch—his body collapsing, the weight of him heavy and limp in my arms, the warmth of his blood seeping between my fingers. His heartbeat fading under my hands. His eyes fluttering shut.
And me screaming his name until my voice broke.
But he's still here.
Against every rule of nature, luck, and logic—Jacob Hale is still breathing.
I don't let go of his hand as I sit in the stiff hospital chair. My body aches, my ribs still bruised, my knees still scraped from the fight. My mind feels like shattered glass held together only by the fact that Jacob is alive.
He's asleep now, his face soft, peaceful in a way I've never seen. Without tension, without fear, without the shadows that used to live behind his eyes.
The doctors said he should have died.
He didn't.
He fought.
For me.
And when I told him I loved him—when I begged him not to die—something in him refused to quit. I know it. I felt it in the way his hand tightened around mine even when he was unconscious. Like he was holding on to that one reason to stay alive.
Every few minutes, I gently brush my thumb over his knuckles. His hand is warm. That alone is enough to make relief flood me all over again.
The door opens quietly.
Detective Ward stands there, softening the moment she sees Jacob asleep.
"He's still resting?" she whispers.
I nod. "They said he'll wake up anytime."
Ward steps farther in, her voice lowering. "You saved him, Lily."
I shake my head. "He saved me. Over and over."
Ward smiles faintly. "Good. Because you're going to have to save him again."
I stiffen. "What do you mean?"
She slips a file from under her arm and places it on the bedside table.
"Damian survived."
My lungs freeze.
"He's in custody," she continues, "but he's not staying there forever. Men like him find cracks in every wall."
I swallow hard. "So he's still coming for us."
Ward nods. "For now, this place is safe. But when Jacob wakes up, you both need to disappear again. At least until the trial. Maybe longer."
Disappear.
Hide.
Run.
I hate the words, but I understand them.
Every time I close my eyes, I still hear Damian's voice.Still see the gun.Still feel the moment it all ended.
Or almost ended.
Ward touches my shoulder gently. "Call me when he wakes up. I'll take care of everything else."
She leaves as quietly as she came.
For a long while after the door closes, I sit in silence.
Then—
Jacob's fingers twitch.
Slowly.
Weakly.
But definitely.
I gasp and lean forward just as his eyes blink open—heavy, unfocused, then sharpening when they find me.
He tries to speak, but I place a finger on his lips.
"You're awake," I whisper, my voice cracking with everything I've been holding inside.
He swallows. His throat is dry, his voice barely a rasp.
"Are you… okay?"
A tear slips down my cheek. "You almost died. And the first thing you ask is about me?"
His eyes soften. "Always."
I let out a shaky laugh that turns into a sob. Before I can wipe it away, Jacob lifts a weak hand and brushes the tear with his thumb.
"I told you to run," he murmurs.
"I didn't."
"You should have."
"No," I whisper fiercely. "Not without you."
His lips curve into the faintest, softest smile—a smile I'll remember for the rest of my life.
"You saved me," he says.
"You promised you wouldn't die," I whisper. "So keep the promise."
He closes his eyes briefly. "I heard you."
"When?"
"Everything." His voice catches—rough, fragile. "When you said you loved me… that's when I came back."
My heart pulls painfully in my chest.
I lean down and kiss his forehead, lingering there, breathing him in, letting the truth settle in my bones.
We almost lost everything.But we didn't.
When I pull back, Jacob is watching me with an expression that makes my breath hitch.
"What happens now?" he whispers.
I thread my fingers through his again. "Ward said we should disappear."
His jaw tightens. "Damian?"
I nod.
Jacob's face goes cold—not afraid, not angry.Something deeper.Something determined.
"I won't let him touch you again," he says, voice low.
"We'll go together," I whisper.
He nods slowly, as if every movement is carved out of pain.
"Together," he repeats.
Outside, the rain grows heavier, tapping against the glass like a promise. Or a warning. Or both.
Jacob squeezes my hand, his eyes drifting shut again—not from danger, but from exhaustion. Safe exhaustion.
I sit beside him and watch the rain.
For the first time in weeks, I breathe without fear.
Our world isn't safe.Not yet.Maybe not ever.
But he's alive.
And I'm alive.
And when he wakes again, we'll walk out of this hospital together and decide our future with our own hands—not Damian's, not fate's, not fear's.
For the first time, it feels like the story is truly beginning.
And not ending.