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Violet had no idea how she held it together.

One moment, she’d been having the best night of her life, and the next, it turned into a nightmare.

The second Asher went into a seizure, she barely had time to think. Violet yanked his shirt off the floor, covered herself, and bolted for help.

Though the club staff didn’t know Asher’s true identity, they didn’t hesitate. In a world where werewolves were still clawing their way out of the second-class stigma, establishments like this bent over backwards to show care, especially when it came to werewolf patrons.

A death on their premises, particularly one involving a werewolf, was a PR disaster waiting to happen. It would not just cause a scandal, but an official inquiry, maybe even a visit from the Alpha King himself. Werewolves weren’t as common as humans hence their lives carried weight.

The ambulance eventually arrived, the sound of their sirens splitting the night like a scream.

Violet could not forget standing in the open doorway of the club, Asher’s shirt on her body damp with sweat and fear as she screamed. "He’s in here! He’s not breathing!"

The paramedics swarmed around her like bees, rushing past without so much as a glance. Within seconds, Asher’s body was being loaded onto the stretcher.

He was limp and lifeless. The once strong, and cocky Asher Nightshade looked terrifyingly small and breakable.

"No pulse," one of them shouted. "Get the paddles. Clear!"

The doors of the ambulance were still open as she stood frozen at the edge, her arms clutched tightly to her chest, her lips trembling with the force of the prayers she mumbled under her breath.

"Goddess, please, Please don’t take him. Please, not now. Not like this."

Without permission, Violet climbed into the back, her knees nearly buckling as she sank into the corner bench. She watched as they pressed the defibrillator pads against his chest.

"Charging. Clear!"

His body jolted once. There was nothing.

"No response!"

"Again!"

Jolt. There was still nothing.

Violet’s heart thrashed wildly in her chest, her fingers digging into her thighs. Her breath came in short gasps. He couldn’t die. Not Asher. Not her monster.

Without thinking about it, Violet was screaming into his ears, "You cannot go, Asher! I swear if you dare do this, I’ll face Hades and drag you out myself! I don’t care!"

"You have to calm down, young lady!" one of them said to her.

But Violet didn’t care because she meant every word. Death was not going to take Asher. Not today.

Then the other medic looked up. "I’ve got a pulse!"

Violet groaned in relief at once.

"Get him stable. Let’s move!"

The doors slammed shut and the vehicle lurched forward. Violet could barely hear anything over the roaring in her ears. She reached out and gripped Asher’s hand which was cold and unmoving in hers.

But she didn’t let go. Not until they reached the hospital, where Asher was rushed into the emergency room, and they were separated.

Left behind with nothing, Violet paced up and down the sterile hallway anxiously. Her feet were bare, her hair disheveled and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She hadn’t even realized she was still in Asher’s shirt with nothing beneath.

But she didn’t care. Not even when people stared and their judgemental gazes raked over her body. All she could think about was Asher. Her poor Asher. He can’t die. She didn’t permit it.

"Hello?" Someone said and Violet looked up.

A nurse with warm brown eyes and the gentlest smile in the world approached her quietly, not wanting to startle her. "Miss Purple?"

"Yes?"

Violet’s heart was pounding now. Had she come here to tell the bad news? That they tried their best but her Asher was no more?

"These are your belongings. The club had them sent over." She handed her a neatly folded bag. "There’s a private changing room just past those doors. I’ll show you."

Thank the gods. Violet let out a shuddering breath. It was not bad news. Yet.

Then she followed the woman numbly. It was only when Violet pulled on the clothes that she felt remotely human again. But then, it was the same clothes she had worn to the club, and just like that, her heart split open again.

With the emotion choking her, Violet pulled out the phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed the boys.

"Okay, we’d be there." Griffin had said.

Violet waited for them. For thirty more unbearable minutes, she waited. Then the elevator dinged, and her world changed.

The doors slid open, and Roman, Alaric, and Griffin stepped out like war gods arriving at the gates of hell. Their eyes locked with hers instantly, and it was all over.

Violet broke.

She stumbled forward and barely got out a strangled, "I—" before her knees buckled with all the guilt.

Thankfully, Roman was already there and caught her mid-collapse, his arms strong and warm and safe. He held her like tight, tucking her against his chest even as she trembled.

"Shh, I’ve got you," he whispered.

"It’s my fault," Violet sobbed. "It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have taken him to that club. I shouldn’t have brought him outside the academy at all."

"No, hey," Roman tilted her face up, his eyes fierce. "Don’t do that. This is not your fault, Violet. Do you hear me? It’s not your fault."

Alaric came up from behind and wrapped his arms around both of them, encasing her in the middle. "You don’t have to be afraid anymore," he said gently, his chin resting on her head. "We’re here now, and Asher’s going to be fine. He has to be."

Violet let out a broken sob and clung to them tighter, like they were the only thing keeping her from shattering further.

Griffin stepped closer and without a word, he wrapped his arms around the three of them. His hand cradled the back of Violet’s head, his voice a quiet rumble. "We’re not going to let him go. Asher will fight this. We’re not losing him."

Violet finally let herself cry, held up by her boyfriends.