Page 35

Elena

T he first thing I noticed when I woke up was that I felt different.

My body was still weak, my limbs heavy, but I didn’t feel as close to the edge as I had before.

I had energy—not much, but enough to open my eyes without struggling. Enough to lift my head and see that Troy and Adrian were already awake, sitting near the fire. Enough to realize that I was still here, even when I had been so sure I wouldn’t be.

The thought sent a wave of relief through me, but it was immediately followed by something else.

Suspicion.

Because I shouldn’t be feeling better.

I should be worse.

I sat up, wincing slightly at the ache in my bones, and their heads snapped toward me instantly.

“Elena,” Troy breathed, already moving toward me.

Adrian followed, his brows drawn together in concern, his blue eyes searching mine.

“Here,” Adrian murmured, offering me a small plate of food.

It was cooked meat, steaming slightly, and the second I smelled it, my stomach twisted in hunger .

I didn’t hesitate.

I ate quickly, barely tasting it, only focusing on how it filled the emptiness inside me.

But as I chewed, my mind caught up.

Where had this food come from?

I froze mid-bite, suddenly aware of how Troy and Adrian were watching me.

Something in their expressions made my stomach twist uncomfortably.

They looked tense, as if they were waiting for me to ask. Waiting for something terrible.

My chest tightened.

“Where did you get this?” I asked slowly.

A look passed between them, something brief but heavy, something that sent a cold chill through my blood.

Adrian cleared his throat, his eyes flickering away.

“We found a deer,” he muttered.

I narrowed my eyes, watching him. “A deer?”

He nodded. “Wolves must have taken it down. We just-we took what was left.”

My stomach sank.

Something about the way he said it—something about the way they both refused to meet my eyes—felt wrong.

But I was too tired to press it. And I was too scared of the answer.

So I swallowed my unease, forcing myself to nod.

I finished eating, even though my body still ached, and the food felt like it was prolonging the inevitable.

I still felt like I was dying.

Maybe I was.

I let out a slow breath and whispered, “I think I just need more sleep.”

Neither of them argued.

And I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse.

I closed my eyes, sinking back into the warmth of the blankets, letting exhaustion pull me down.

When I woke again, the fire lowered, casting soft golden flickers against the metal walls.

Troy and Adrian sat near it, speaking in low, hushed whispers.

Something about their voices sent a wave of dread through me.

I swallowed hard.

“Troy…? Adrian?”

They both went still before they turned toward me, moving closer.

Adrian knelt beside me first, his fingers brushing my forehead lightly, checking my temperature out of habit.

Troy sat at my other side, his green eyes full of something I couldn’t quite place.

Something heavy.

I licked my lips, my mouth dry. “What were you talking about?”

Another look passed between them, another silent conversation.

Finally, Troy exhaled and said it.

“We were talking about leaving.”

My stomach dropped. The words settled over me like a lead weight, pressing me down, suffocating me. I knew what that meant. I knew what that implied.

This was the end.

They wouldn’t be talking about leaving unless they had no other choice.

Unless this was it.

My chest tightened, my fingers clenching into the blanket, my breath coming in short, shaky bursts.

Troy and Adrian were immediately there, pressing in close. Their arms wrapped around me, and their voices were soft and soothing as I cried into their chests.

“We’ll figure it out, butterfly,” Adrian whispered, his lips pressing to my hair, his fingers threading through my loose waves.

“I promise,” Troy murmured, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm and steady, grounding me as I shook in their arms .

They kissed me softly, repeatedly—gentle reassurances, silent apologies, desperate vows.

I wanted to believe them, that they would find a way, that I wouldn’t have to say goodbye. Deep down, though, I knew the truth.

If we didn’t leave soon, we would never leave at all.

Troy let out a slow breath, reaching for something near the fire.

A small, familiar bottle.

He opened it, pulling out one of his last sleeping pills before pressing it into my hand.

“Take it,” he whispered. “Just sleep.”

I stared at the pill, his shaking hands, the tightness in his expression, and the darkness in his eyes.

I didn’t argue. I didn’t want to be awake for this anymore. I swallowed the pill with a sip of water, barely registering Troy’s fingers brushing over my lips.

The warmth of their bodies pressed in around me, anchoring me even as my mind drifted further and further away.

And as the drug pulled me under, I realized something.

I had felt less afraid when the plane had crashed.

Because at least then?—

At least then, I still believed we would be saved.