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They disappear soon, anyway, replaced by bright fluorescent lights. Faces swim in and out of view, everything blurry around me. My lungs expand a little easier now, but it's still so hard to breathe, chest cracking open. A distant voice calls my name, but dark spots dance in my vision. My head throbs so violently that bile rises in my throat.

“Devon? Stay with us, Devon, we need to prep you for surgery now.”

Surgery for what?

I want to ask, but my tongue won't move. I can’t see shit. The pain behind my ribs is agonizing, a million glass shards burrowing into my organs. Someone starts cutting away at my shirt, cold air hitting my skin. Cold hands. Cold metal.

“Lung's punctured. Possible internal bleeding.”

I try to speak, to ask where the hell Logan is, to beg them not to let me die where I can’t see the stars, but all that comes out is a gurgled groan. Copper floods my mouth.

Figures I'd go out like this. Surrounded by strangers and choking on my own blood.

It was always destined to end this way.

Cold. So fucking cold.

Air floods my lungs, even easier than the last time but no less painful. They feel like they're burning.

Did I end up in Hell? Always knew I would. They told me I would. Seems fitting.

But who knew Hell was so fucking cold?

“Devon.” A hand slips into mine, warm and trembling. The sound of Salem’s voice has me scrunching my face, which starts to ache the moment I do.

What the fuck is she doing here?

I can’t see her, but I know that voice. It cuts through some of the haze, but not enough to bring me back to the surface.

“You hang the fuck on, asshole,” she snaps, voice cracking. “You don’t get to die. I'm not letting you off the hook that easily.”

A breath rattles out of me, half a laugh, half a sob. If I go, at least I get to hear someone's familiar voice one more time.

But goddamn, I really don’t want to go.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Everything aches. My chest feels as if it’s been split open and stapled back together. Slowly, I pry my eyes open. They stick together like I haven't opened them in days.

An IV sticks uncomfortably out of my arm, something tight wrapped around my midsection. Breathing feels shallow and sharp.

I blink against the blurry light from the windows, squinting until two shapes come into focus, slouched in the chairs beside my bed.

Huck’s got his head in his hands, curls wild like they haven’t been washed in days. Taylor’s beside him, leg bouncing a mile a minute, bloodshot eyes staring at his phone. Neither of them seems to notice I'm awake.

“Hey,” I rasp, wincing immediately at the dryness in my throat.

Two sets of eyes snap up to mine.

“Oh thank fuck,” Taylor breathes, leaping to his feet.

“Jesus, man.” Huck presses my call button. “You scared the shit out of us.”

“What… what happened? Where’s Logan?”

They both hesitate, just for a second. But it’s long enough to make my heart rate increase.

Tay swallows hard before looking away. “He’s alive. That’s the important part.”