“They got Hannah and Stephen out,” I tell her quietly. “Two of the kids too.”
My thumb brushes across her knuckles.
“You were right. They needed us there.”
The ventilator in the next room hisses softly through the wall.
Olivia doesn’t move.
Doesn’t squeeze my hand back.
Nothing.
Fear crawls higher up my throat.
I lean forward, elbows braced against my knees, refusing to let go of her.
“You’re gonna wake up and tell me how stubborn I am,” I murmur. “Probably tell me I should’ve listened to you sooner.”
My mouth almost twitches.
Almost.
Then it’s gone.
Because she still isn’t answering.
The silence presses harder.
Heavier.
I lower my head for a second, staring at our joined hands.
At the bruises on hers.
The cuts across her knuckles.
Proof she fought until the very end.
Emotion wedges sharp beneath my ribs.
“I didn’t fight my way across the world just to lose you in a hospital room.”
My throat tightens hard enough to hurt.
This time I let it.
No walls.
No armor.
Just her.
“I’m not done with you yet,” I whisper. “We still have a whole life waiting for us.”
The monitor continues its steady rhythm.
Beep.
