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At that very moment, a spark of a small flame flickered near the hood. The car was about to go up in flames.
But Sawyer didn’t let go of her.
Sawyer pulled harder, not giving a damn that his hands were shaking. He fought with it, yanking at the buckle with all his strength. The fire was growing, the heat intensifying, threatening to engulf the car at any second.
Gritting his teeth, he gave one final pull—and the buckle broke.
Ellie was free.
Sawyer hoisted her into his arms. The fire was growing. He had seconds. He bolted toward his car. He placed her carefully in the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.
The second he hit the gas—a deafening explosion rocked the night.
Behind him, flames engulfed the car, lighting up the dark road in a fiery inferno.
Five hours later, Sawyer sat in a cold hospital room, his fingers curled around Ellie’s hand. His thumb brushed over her knuckles as his eyes remained fixed on her face.
She hadn’t woken up.
A thick bandage covered her head, and her complexion was pale—too pale, her breaths slow.
The doctor’s words echoed in his mind.
‘If she doesn’t wake up in twelve hours, she might slip into a coma.’
His chest tightened.
Sawyer’s foot tapped impatiently against the floor. Each passing second made the panic in his chest claw higher, suffocating him.
“Ellie,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her cold hand, which he held tightly. “Wake up. How long are you going to sleep?” His voice cracked. “Please wake up.”
Nothing.
“Goddamn it, Ellie, you’re scaring the life out of me,” he gritted out, his hands trembling. He reached up, gently brushing her hair from her forehead before leaning down, his intense gaze fixed on her still face.
She had never been this quiet before. Normally, she was a storm—restless, relentless, always pushing his buttons. Seeing her like this, lifeless and still, was terrifying.
He exhaled sharply and slumped back into his chair, rubbing his face. "Ellie, please wake up. If you wake up, I’m going to—"
"You’re going to what?" Ellie’s weak voice interrupted him.
Sawyer shot to his feet, his face going pale.
Ellie’s voice—soft, teasing—had sliced through the silence. His heart slammed against his ribs as he looked at her, only to find her eyes fluttering open.
Then, as if snapping out of a trance, he quickly let go of her hand, turned away, and rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. A second later, he spun back around, masking his emotions with an arrogant expression.
"So, you’re still alive," he said.
Ellie’s brows knitted together, her cold gaze locking onto his as a dull ache pulsed through her body. She pushed herself up slowly, ignoring the sting in her limbs.
"What are you doing here?" Her voice was hoarse, laced with confusion. "You can leave."
Sawyer’s jaw clenched, his glare sharp enough to cut. Even after nearly dying, the first thing she did was piss him off? Unbelievable.
His voice was taut with irritation. “I’m here because of our agreement. You’re my responsibility until it ends.” His glare darkened, his patience thinning. “If something happened to you, I’d have to deal with a whole lot of annoying, unnecessary trouble because of your stupidity.”
Ellie scoffed, shooting him an annoyed look.