Page 9

Adrian

P ain.

That was the first thing I registered—raw, hot, searing pain.

It radiated from every part of me—my ribs screamed with each shallow breath, my head throbbed so hard it felt like it might split open, and the rest of my body was a dull, heavy ache.

The next thing I noticed was the unmistakable, unforgiving cold.

It wrapped around me, creeping into my bones, making my fingers stiff and my muscles lock.

My ears were ringing. A shrill, high-pitched sound that drowned out everything else.

And then, my heart.

It was slamming against my ribs, racing, panicked. Terrified.

Because I remembered.

The plane. The impact. The crash.

I sucked in a breath, the icy air burning my lungs. I forced my eyes open.

Wreckage.

The cabin was a mangled nightmare—twisted metal, shattered windows, debris scattered everywhere.

Blood .

There was so much blood. On my hands. On my face. On the seat in front of me. My glasses were broken and on the floor. I must have smashed my face against something during the crash.

My stomach lurched at the sight of it all. At the acrid smell.

Troy.

I turned sharply, ignoring the sharp pull of pain through my body.

“Troy!”

He was still strapped in his seat, his body limp and unnatural.

No. No. No. NO!

I reached for him, pain splintering through me like fire, but I didn’t care. I had to get my brother to open his eyes. To tell me he was OK.

“Troy!” My voice cracked. My hand gripped his shoulder, shaking him. Too still. He was too fucking still.

Please, wake up.

I sobbed softly, shaking him gently, his name on repeat.

Finally, a low raspy groan.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

Troy’s head lolled slightly, a deep, pained grunt slipping from his lips. His face was battered and bruised, both dried and fresh blood smeared across his skin.

His mouth parted, voice barely above a whisper.

“E…lena…”

I swallowed hard, my chest tight. I was too scared to look at her. Too afraid to know…

“I’ll check on her,” I promised, steadying my voice.

I didn’t want to leave him. I wanted to keep shaking him, to make sure he was OK. But I had to check. I had to see if she?—

Don’t think about it. Just move. Just get to her.

I gritted my teeth and unbuckled my seatbelt, groaning as I shifted. Pain tore through me, hot and sharp, but I bit it down, forcing my body to keep going. I turned, my breath catching as my eyes landed on her.

Elena.

She was still in her seat, slumped at an awkward angle.

Unconscious.

Bloody.

My chest seized .

“No.” I stumbled toward her, my body screaming in protest.

Her head tilted slightly to the side, her braid half-undone, and strands of her dark hair matted with blood.

Her face—God, her face.

One side was swollen and bruised, a deep cut running along her temple, dried blood trailing down to her jaw. Scratches danced along her cheek; her lips split and bloody.

“E-Elena, wake up,” my voice shook.

I reached for her, my fingers trembling as I touched her arm. Cold. So fucking cold.

I had no idea how long we’d been in the wreckage; I just knew it must have been long since the sun was now setting.

I squeezed her arm. “Come on. Please. Wake up.”

Nothing.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached for her wrist, pressing my fingers against her pulse point.

A beat.

Faint.

Weak.

But it was there.

I let out a ragged breath, my head dropping against the seat beside her.

She was alive.

Barely.

“Please,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure who I was begging, but I’d beg the fucking stars if it meant she got to live. I’d beg her. God. The universe. Anyone who would listen, even if it meant the devil himself.

“Please wake up,” I choked out. “Elena. Please. Don’t go. ”

I pressed my forehead to her arm, my ribs screaming at me, my fingers clenching around her delicate wrist.

Regret slammed into me like a fist to the gut.

I had spent so many years hating her, blaming her, ignoring her, and treating her like she didn’t matter.

And now… now, I might never get to know her.

A strangled sound left my throat.

“I swear, if you wake up, I’ll-I’ll be better.” My fingers tightened around hers. “I won’t be a dick. I won’t—” my voice cracked again. “Just please, don’t die. Don’t fucking leave me, Elena.”

The ringing in my ears was dulling, replaced by the howling wind outside, the eerie silence of the wreckage filling in all the dark spaces.

And still—she didn’t wake.

I let out a shaky, broken breath.

I was too weak. Too hurt.

My body was failing me, my vision blurring at the edges, exhaustion pulling me down like a weight.

I knew I needed to stay awake. I needed to help her. I needed to help Troy and Dean.

But I couldn’t.

Despite my fight, I was slipping, my strength draining, the cold dragging me under.

As my eyes fluttered shut, my grip on Elena’s hand slackened, and one final thought echoed.

Please don’t let her die before I have the chance to make this right.

And then, darkness.