Chapter 24
twenty-four
Elijah
I don’t see the cabin first.
I feel it.
Something shifts in the air ahead of us, something that doesn’t belong to the forest, and it pulls at me before my mind catches up, before I even know what I’m reacting to. My pace slows without meaning to, my focus narrowing as I look through the trees and then I see the light.
It’s faint, almost hidden, but it’s steady in a way nothing out here should be. It bleeds through the gaps in the trees like something alive, something waiting.
My chest tightens.
That’s it.
I don’t think about it. I don’t question it. It lands in me whole and certain, like something I’ve known for hours finally catching up to my body.
“That’s it,” I say, already moving, my voice low but locked in. “That’s where he is.”
Christian shifts beside me, his attention sharpening as he tracks the same point.
“Slow down,” he says. “We don’t know what he’s—”
“No.”
I don’t look at him. I don’t break stride.
“He’s in there.”
I can feel it now. Not panic. Not hope. Something deeper than both, something that sits in my chest and pulls me forward like a line I don’t have a choice but to follow.
“She’s in there.”
“Elijah—”
I’m already gone.
The trees don’t register properly as I push through them. Branches scrape against me, catch at my clothes, drag across my skin, and none of it lands. The only thing that exists is the light ahead, the shape of the cabin starting to take form between the trunks.
I hit the clearing fast.
Too fast to stop.
The cabin is right there, close enough now that I can see the window and my head turns without thinking.
Just a glance and I freeze as I register what I see.
Her body on the floor.
The blood.
Too much of it.
And him over her, his hands on her.
Trying to get her clothes off like she’s something he owns, something he gets to...
Something inside me drops out.
There’s no thought after that.
No separation between what I see and what I do.
I hit the door hard enough that it flies open and cracks against the wall, the sound loud, sharp, meaningless compared to the noise in my own head as I cross the room and grab him.
I don’t remember deciding to move.
I just know he’s under my hands.
I rip him off her so hard his body leaves the ground before it hits, slamming into the floor with a sound that barely registers before I’m on him.
The first punch lands and I feel it, bone under my knuckles, the impact running straight up my arm, but it doesn’t slow me down. It doesn’t even count. I’m already hitting him again, dragging him back by his shirt just to drive him down harder.
“You thought—”
My voice comes out rough, wrong, like it’s tearing out of me instead of being spoken.
“You thought you could take my wife from me?”
He tries to get his hands up.
He’s too slow.
I hit him again. And again. There’s no rhythm to it, no control, just force, everything I’ve been holding in since she was taken coming out in every strike.
“You thought you could fucking touch her?”
He swings at me.
The knife flashes in his hand and I barely register it before it catches my arm, a sharp burn across my forearm that should matter and doesn’t. I grab his wrist, twist it hard enough that he makes a broken sound and the knife drops, skidding across the floor somewhere out of reach.
I don’t let him go.
I don’t give him space.
“I’ll kill you for this,” I say, and this time it’s quieter, more dangerous, because I mean it in a way that has nothing to do with anger anymore.
I hit him again. Something shifts under my fist.
I don’t stop. I can’t. All I can see is her. All I can think is...
“Elijah!”
Jackson.
It cuts through. Not enough to stop me. Enough to reach me. Zach’s voice follows, rough and panicked.
“Fuck! There’s so much blood...”
My head turns.
Just enough.
And everything changes.
Jackson is on the floor with her, pulling her into his lap like he’s afraid she’s going to slip away if he doesn’t hold onto her hard enough. His hands are shaking. I’ve never seen them shake like that.
“Lia,” he says, and his voice breaks on it. “Lia, sweetheart, come on...open your eyes!”
Zach is already pressing his shirt into her side, his hands steady even though the rest of him isn’t, his jaw tight, his breathing uneven.
“There’s too much blood,” he says, like he’s forcing the words out through control. “We need to move. Now.”
I look at her.
Properly.
And for a second... something tries to happen inside me. She is dying.
No.
I shut it down so fast it’s like it never existed.
She’s not dying.
That’s not happening.
“She’s not dying,” I say, and my voice is flat, certain, leaving no space for anything else to exist. “We’re not losing her.”
Christian steps in beside me.
“Keys,” he says. “His car.”
I move.
The keys are on the counter. I don’t remember seeing them before. I just know they’re there now, my hand closing around them before I turn back.
“Get her up,” I snap.
Jackson doesn’t hesitate. He gathers her carefully, too carefully for the way his breathing is breaking, her body limp against him in a way that makes something in my chest tighten harder.
“Stay with me,” he keeps saying, like he can force her back if he doesn’t stop. “Stay with me, Lia...come on...”
Zach doesn’t take his hands off her, even as they move, even as they carry her out.
“Don’t give up,” he mutters. “Don’t give up...”
We step outside and the car is right there.
Paul’s car.
I unlock it as we reach it, wrench the driver’s door open, and by the time I’m in the seat Jackson is already in the back with her, pulling her into his lap, Zach climbing in beside him, still pressing down on the wound.
The engine turns.
I don’t think.
I drive.
The car lurches forward, tires catching as I push it too hard, too fast, the road barely registering under the speed I’m forcing out of it.
Behind me, Jackson is breaking.
There’s no control left in it.
“Lia, please,” he says, over and over, his voice raw, cracking. “Please, sweetheart, open your eyes, please—”
Zach’s voice cuts in, tighter, holding the line.
“Keep breathing. Just keep breathing. Stay with us—”
I check the mirror. Her body isn’t moving right.
There’s too much blood. Too much.
“She’s not dying,” I say again, louder now, like I can force it into reality if I don’t stop saying it. “She’s not dying.”
“Elijah—” Jackson’s voice breaks completely. “She’s not...she’s not waking up!”
“She’s not dying!”
I don’t look away from the road.
I don’t let the thought form.
Because it’s not happening. I didn’t find her, I didn’t get her back just to lose her now.
That is not an option.
I push the car harder.
Faster.
The engine strains under it.
The road stretches out in front of me, too long, too far, every second feeling like it’s slipping through my hands.
Behind me, they don’t stop.
Jackson keeps begging.
Zach keeps holding pressure.
And I...I don’t slow down.
Not for anything.