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Feeling the dreaded sense of urgency, I don’t wait for any of them to follow as I tear down the stairs and into the Benz G-class. They must’ve felt the same off feeling because they’re not even half a step behind.

“Fuckkkk,” Coop screams. “The goddamn cameras are down. I can’t see shit.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand tall, as if they’re saluting me.

“This isn’t good,” Mason adds, and I break every speed limit, arriving outside Eva’s dorm, but I don’t stop. Instead, I hop the curb until we’re only feet away from the entrance.

Piling out of the car, we traverse the stairs in seconds. We’re inside, striding across their living room, and my gut twists with each step I take.

She’s okay. She’s pissed, but she’s okay.

I try to convince myself as I open her door. The room is shrouded in darkness until I flick on the light.

“Fuck,” Cooper bellows.

I don’t have to ask why because my attention lands on an ashen-looking Eva slumped on the floor by her nightstand table.

Moving on autopilot, I run to the bathroom, grab towels to wrap around her wrists, hoping to at least slow the bleeding. Then I scoop her in my arms and rush out of her suite and down the stairs. I hand Eva to Mason before climbing into the driver’s seat. Their doors are barely closed when I hit the gas, flooring it out of school. I ignore lights, sirens, and anything that would force me to stop.

“You can’t die. You can’t die,” I mutter.

“She won’t,” Coop tries to reassure, but my nerves won’t be satisfied until I see those honey-brown eyes glaring at me in hate. I’d take her hating me for a lifetime before I’d see her lifeless.

The car screeches to a stop, and Mason beats us out of the car, using his long ass legs to get her inside the emergency room.

“Help. Somebody help,” he commands. I’ll give it to him, his 6’7” frame is a force that demands attention.

A team of nurses run over, one of them with a bed. “Put her here,” the nurse orders, and I watch the gentle giant place Eva down with such care.

It’s not long before she’s hooked up to machines, and I have to fight the terror coursing through me as I watch the familiarscene unfold. My heart threatens to stop as I ward off memories of Farrah’s time in the hospital.

“Code Blue,” someone shouts, and I stop breathing.

It feels like a swarm of nurses and doctors converges upon us before we’re quickly escorted out of the room. I want to argue that I’m not going anywhere, but I won’t stand for any distraction that causes Eva’s death.

“She can’t die—she won’t die,” my brother chants, pacing outside the hospital room.

I hear someone inside shout, “Clear!” And I nearly fall to my knees.

No… no… no

I see Farrah lying helplessly on the bed, but her face morphs to Eva’s as the doctor apologizes.“There’s nothing else we can do.”

Pulling at my hair, I try to fight the dread—the foreshadowing of a scene coming full circle, and this time we’re the cause.

This can’t be happening again. Eva will be safe. I can’t lose the girl I love.

The revelation comes barreling in as I hear the distinct sound of a flatline.

I guess we got what we wanted.

To be continued…