Page 141 of Scarred Angel

She’s still. Too fucking still.

You’re not dead.

I saw through the seatbelt, lungs screaming for air, and pull her free. But even as my chest feels ready to cave, I kick until we break the surface and drag us both to shore.

“Fuck…Come on, baby.” I roll her onto her back, and my heart stutters to a stop at the sight of her blue lips. “Valentina, wake up.” My voice breaks. “You have to wake up.”

I start compressions, but every push into her chest takes something from me. My vision swims, the edges going dark.

But I shake it off…

“You’re not dying here. Not like this.”

I press harder, more steady compressions until my hands begin sliding across her chest, too slick and sticky. For a second, I think it’s just river water, then look down, and it's darker, thicker.

Blood. My blood.

“Wait for me, baby. I love you.” My palms frame her face, staining her skin red. “Do you hear me…I fucking love you.”

I kiss her cold, blood-stained lips, then slowly pull back for another round of CPR. But the world’s already fading. She blurs, and my arms give out.

I fall, hitting the dirt beside her, mouth and nose full of mud.

And then there’s nothing.

Fifty-Five

MAKSIM

There’s a chill in the air and the steady beep of a machine somewhere in the distance.

Hospital.

When I try to open my eyes, it feels like they've been fucking glued shut. My memory is hazy, pieces scattered out of reach, and nothing makes sense, like I've been trapped in a place where time doesn't exist. Days, weeks...I'm not sure. But there's pain here, dull at first, growing sharper with every breath. Only the wound isn’t physical. It’s deeper, tearing me apart from the inside out.

And burning up my throat like a lit fuse.

Grief.

It all comes flooding back. The firefight at the track. Her leaving. Her car flipping into the river.

My eyes snap open, and I bolt upright, ignoring the way every nerve lights up in white-hot agony.

No…

Her lifeless body. Her blue lips.

I shake my head, trying to force it away. It has to be a nightmare, the worst one of them all.

“Wake up.” The heel of my hand slams against my temple. “It’s not real.”

She can’t be fucking dead. I won’t accept it.

I rip the IVs from my arm, blood spilling down my wrist as monitors erupt in alarm. But I don’t give a damn. I have to find her. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and nearly crumble to the floor, not expecting the muscle weakness.

Fuck. How long has it been? I grip the railing and push up, forcing my legs to hold.

“Hey! What are you doing? You can’t get up, man.” A young nurse rushes to my side, trying to lead me back into the cot, but I shove him.