My chest feels like it’s caving in.
“Oh my fucking God,” I whisper, the words barely forming. “Oh my God, she’s...”
Her chest jerks.
It’s small.
Barely there.
But it’s something.
Zach freezes for half a second.
Then leans down again.
“Again,” he mutters. “Come on, again!”
Another breath.
Shallow.
Weak.
But there.
“She’s breathing,” I choke out, the words breaking apart as they leave me. “She’s...she’s breathing!”
“Stay with me,” Zach says immediately, shifting back, one hand still hovering over her chest like he’s ready to go again if it stops. “Stay with me!”
“I see the hospital,” Elijah says suddenly, his voice cutting through everything.
The lights hit through the windshield.
Bright.
Too bright.
Relief doesn’t come.
Not yet.
Not when she still isn’t responding, not when her breathing is still wrong, not when my hands are still covered in her blood.
“Faster,” I say anyway. “Elijah, go faster!”
“I am.”
The car doesn’t slow as we pull into emergency.
It stops hard.
Too hard.
I barely register it before the door is open and Elijah is out, already moving, already yanking the back door open with enough force that it slams against the side of the car.
“Move,” he snaps.
I don’t argue.
