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Sebastian touched my arm. “Rosen, we need to⁠—”

“No,” I snapped, louder than I meant to. I turned fully toward the farmhouse, every muscle in my body locked tight. “She’s alive?” I asked as I looked back at Jackson, my voice shaking now, despite everything I was trying to hold together. “You’re telling me,” I said slowly, “that my sister is alive…in that house?”

“Yes!” he shouted before he collapsed against the hood of the car.

“Oh my God,” I muttered.

“Peter, don’t go anywhere, we have to wait for backup⁠—”

But I was already moving. As I turned toward the house, the sirens suddenly were too far away to matter. One thought took over everything else, and I was already sprinting. Gravel tore under my boots as I ran, the farmhouse growing larger with every step, every breath burning in my chest. The front door was already half-opened. I skidded to a stop, dropping into cover against the exterior wall, heart hammering so hard, it drowned out everything else. Fuck. My hand went straight to my holster, and I drew the weapon in one smooth motion, raising it as I edged toward the doorway.

I leaned in, angling my body through the frame just enough to see inside. The lounge was chaos, cushions ripped off the couch and scattered across the floor like someone had torn through the room, looking for something they couldn’t find. My jaw tightened. Slowly, I pushed the door wider with my shoulder.

Creeeeeak.

I froze instantly. Every part of me went still. Breath held, shoulders locked, finger hovering just off the trigger as I listened harder than I’d ever listened to anything in my life. I pushed forward again, about to step in fully when…

“You chose him over everything I gave you!”

I went still as Wayne’s voice detonated from deeper inside the house.

“You don’t get to do that to me!”

Then I fucking moved. My boots were silent against the worn floorboards as I slipped inside, hugging the wall, weapon raised, tracking the direction of the voice. I reached the edge of the hallway and turned. That’s when I saw them. Everything in me went white. There was no thought. No decision. No hesitation.

I raised the gun…and fired.

Bang!

Wayne toppled off of Evie and slumped to the side as footsteps pounded behind me.

“Evie!” My voice came out sharper than I meant it to. Her throat…Christ. The marks there made something inside me go cold and hot all at once. I reached for the chain without thinking, fingers shaking as I pulled it free and tossed it aside like it was burning me. “Oh my God,” I muttered, leaning closer, my hands hovering like I was scared she’d break if I touched her wrong.

“Look at your neck…Sebastian, get the fucking paramedics in here now!” My attention snapped back to her the second her head lolled again, her body going frighteningly light beneath my hands like she was already halfway gone.

No.

Not like this.

“Evie,” I said again, softer this time, forcing my voice down, holding it steady, even as something in my chest cracked. “Can you hear me? Come on, darling, open your eyes. It’s me,” I whispered, brushing damp hair off her face with shaking fingers. “Stay with me,” I begged, pressing two fingers to her pulse.

It was faint—too fucking faint.

I swallowed hard, forcing my hands to stay steady as I shifted my grip, one hand carefully supporting her shoulders, the other moving to her throat. Training took over, even as my mind tried to fracture. I tilted her head slightly, checking for obstruction, watching her chest rise in shallow breaths. Her skin was pale, damp, and slipping into that dangerous grey I knew too well from every worst-case scenario I’d ever responded to.

My jaw clenched so hard, it ached. “Sebastian!” I barked without looking away from her. “Where the hell are those paramedics?!” I adjusted her position slightly, scanning her face, her neck, the bruising there tightening something ugly in my chest.

“Evie!”

Jackson stumbled in, barely catching himself. And all it took was one look at her, and whatever strength he had left just vanished. “No, no, no, no,” he choked, dropping to his knees so fast, he almost fell into her. “Evie, I’m here. I came back, please—” Jackson made a sound that wasn’t quite a sob, lowering his forehead to her hand like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “I came back,” he whispered brokenly. “I came back for you…”

My ears still rang from the shot, and my hands trembled violently as I sat in the waiting room. My right leg bounced as I bit the skin off my lip, a tangy, metallic flavour resting on the tip of my tongue. I was exhausted, but I didn't want to close my eyes—not when all I could see was Wayne tightening the chain around her throat, squeezing so tight, her limbs were seizing beneath him. All I could think about was how lightweight she felt in my arms, frail and weak, barely clinging on. Or how she had no pulse in the ambulance, or when she flatlined a second time in the emergency room.

“Forensics found a preserved head in the basement,” Sebastian murmured, leaning in just enough for only me to hear. My gaze stayed fixed on Jackson’s blood-stained feet sitting across from me. He refused to seek treatment until she woke up, even though he could barely keep his eyes open, with his head bowed and hands shaking where they rested uselessly in his lap atop his hospital gown.

“I’m so sorry, Peter,” Sebastian added quietly.

I didn’t answer him. Because there was nothing left in me that knew what sorry was supposed to mean anymore. How much pain could a person carry before it stopped registering as pain? Before it just became…static? A constant, distant hum you learned to live inside? I was getting close to finding out.