South Dockway veered left before the bridge. Everyone knows to avoid the bridge in bad weather. But I didn’t care. The ping told me to. This was the closest way to where she was.
I turned the bend. A car was wrapped around a pole.
For half a second I thought I was early. That she’d be standing there, wet and furious.
Then I saw the plate. Adams crest, warped in the grill.
Stomach dropped. This was fucking happening. All the systems in the world don’t prepare you for the one nightmare you built them to stop.
I parked across lanes. Left the door hanging open.
The driver was over the wheel. Forearm braced like he could still hold himself alive. I didn’t look at his face. I knew his name. I’d say it later at his funeral. When we made sure his family would be set for their lifetime.
Back door was stuck. The handle snapped. I smashed glass with my elbow until blood ran down my wrist. Then I climbed through.
She was there.
Seatbelt locked across her chest. Collarbone red. She was leaning forward, blood running down the side of her face. For a full second. I froze.
“Em.”
She opened her eyes, dazed. Thank fucking god.
“Bastion?” Her voice broken. “How are you?—”
“Stop.” My chest already breaking. “Try not to move. Don’t look around. Look at me.”
Her eyes flickered.
“Baby,” I slid an arm under her head. “I’ve got you.” Fingers came away red. I forced myself not to react. I needed her out of this fucking car. I pulled at the belt.
She screamed.
It ripped straight through me. I’d taken a hot knife to the chest better.
“Okay,” I forced out. Voice steady. She needed me to be steady. Calm. “It’s your arm. You’re okay.”
It was a lie.
Her arm was crushed under steel. Wrist swelling. Door folded wrong. Seat rails bent. I took in the scene like I was trained.
She wasn’t okay.
But my voice wasn’t allowed to say that.
“You’re fine.” My hand shook once against her jaw before I locked it still.
She blinked slow. Her focus slipped.
“Angel,” I whispered. The word cut through me. “I’ve got you.”
Rain hammered the roof. She can’t leave us like this. A car accident. A fucking wet road and a pole taking the love of our life. No. It wasn’t happening.
She looked at me. “You shouldn’t be here…how are you?—”
“I should.” I cut her off. My voice cracked again. “I’m here. You’re fine.”
Another lie. But she needed it. And I needed it to be true.
