Page 10 of Donovan

Declan had a knack for survival, just like me.

So I waited.

I tried to convince myself it was nothing.

Tried to believe he was okay.

Tried to sleep.

But sleep wouldn’t come. And when it did, it dragged me straight into a nightmare.

In the dream, I saw Declan, lying in the grass, his body battered, clawing his way toward me.

His eyes, wide with desperation, were locked on mine.

Something unseen lurked behind him, a monster made of shadows, its form twisting, its claws digging into his flesh, dragging him back into the dark.

He wouldn’t give up.

Declan never gave up.

He clawed forward, inch by inch, his breath ragged, his lips parting

"Donovan, save me."

Three words.

Three haunting, final words.

The monster swallowed him whole.

I woke up with a gasp, heart hammering against my ribs, lungs tight, drenched in cold sweat. My skin prickled, still grimy from last night’s mission.

My hands shook as I raked them through my hair, my entire body stiff and aching.

"Just a dream."I whispered the words out loud, but they did nothing to calm me.

I snatched my phone off the nightstand, my thumb flying over the screen. I kept checking, hoping and praying, but the screen only stared back at me, blank, lifeless.

No messages. No calls.

Dead silence.

I threw the phone onto the bed and exhaled sharply, pressing my palms to my face.

This was getting out of hand. I needed to cool off, think clearly. I needed to do something.

Pushing myself off the bed, I dragged my exhausted body to the bathroom and stepped into the shower.

The water was scalding at first, burning against my raw skin, but I let it. I needed it.

Needed to feel something other than this helpless, gut-wrenching frustration.

As the water ran down my face, I let my thoughts wander.

Then I remembered.

Something I’d forgotten in all the chaos. That night, before Declan left, we got drunk. Not just tipsy, but wrecked.