Chapter 56
Kade
The second I see the car swerve, my heart stops.
“Fuck!” I shout, slamming my palm against the dash as I watch the tires screech and the vehicle veer sharply across the road.
Time slows—seconds stretched out, every detail sharp. The silver of the car. The glint of the sun off the windshield. The moment the front wheels hit the barrier, splintering wood and metal like paper.
“Liv,” The roar tears from my throat, raw and panicked, carrying every ounce of fear I feel.
I barely hear Brandon curse beside me. My door’s open before we’ve even come to a full stop, my feet pounding the gravel as I sprint toward the broken edge of the bridge. My pulse roars in my ears.
I sprint toward the bank, my legs pushing me faster, desperate to save her. Jumping over the small barrier I slide down the bank to the water’s edge, the car no longer visible. Panic sets in as I rip my hoodie over my head.
“Call an ambulance.” I shout up to Brandon and then dive into the cold water, swimming hard toward the spot where I last saw the car.
I suck in a deep breath and dive, the water swallowing me whole as I search the murky depths.
When I finally spot the shape of the car, I push back up and break the surface, gasping for air before plunging back down—arms and legs burning as I force myself deeper, fighting toward the wreck.
My chest burns as I push myself through the water, the dark shape of the car getting clearer with every stroke. My fingers scrape metal, and I grab hold, yanking myself closer.
The windows are fogged; water already filled to the brim. Panic fuels me as I try the door, but it won’t budge.
I kick back to the surface, dragging in a sharp breath, my heart pounding so hard it echoes in my skull.
“Brandon!” I shout hoarsely. “I need something—I can’t get it open!”
I don’t wait for an answer. I dive again, lungs screaming, teeth clenched, muscles shaking, desperate. I reach the car, gripping the door, the mirror—anything—and haul, but it won’t give.
She’s in there. Don’t you fucking quit.
And then—through the glass—I see her. Liv.
Her hair floats around her face, her eyes closed, arms drifting weightless in the current.
No. No. No. Hold on. Hold on, baby.
I break the surface again with a ragged gasp just as Brandon reaches the water’s edge. He hurls something toward me. A tire iron.
I catch it, barely feeling my hands. No time. No hesitation. I suck in one last breath and go under.
This time I swing hard. The glass shatters, shards swallowed by the dark. I lunge inside, fingers locking around her arm. She doesn’t move—doesn’t fight me—her body limp.
I drag her free, kicking with everything I have, every muscle burning as I force us upward—up, up—until we finally break the surface, my lungs splitting with the need for air.
Brandon’s already there, splashing into the shallows, reaching for us. I push Liv toward him, my arms shaking with exhaustion.
He hauls her up, cradling her against his chest as he stumbles back onto solid ground. I claw my way up the bank after them, every limb trembling, breath tearing from my throat.
Brandon lays her down, her body too still—too pale.
I’m right behind him, dragging myself through the shallows as he lifts her out, lays her down on flat ground.
I stumble to her side, chest heaving. Her body’s limp, her skin cold, her lips—fuck—blue.
Adrenaline explodes through me. I drop to my knees, ear to her mouth, praying, begging, but there’s nothing. No breath. No sound.
“She’s not fucking breathing!” I choke out, panic ripping through my chest as I tip her head back and start compressions. “Come on, baby. Breathe.”
And then I’m on autopilot—hands moving—because I’m not losing her. Not now. Not ever.
“I need to get him out.” Brandon says as he runs toward the water, I barely register it—my focus stays locked on Liv as I force air into her lungs, pushing down on her chest, again and again.
“Stay with me, baby,” I whisper, my breath shaky but urgent. “Please… just stay with me.”
My hands never stop moving. I press down on her chest, again and again, forcing air into her lungs between each compression. Her skin is ice-cold and panic claws at me.
Then, suddenly, she jerks—a rough, choking gasp tearing from her throat as water spills from her lips. Relief crashes through me, stealing the air from my lungs. I roll her onto her side, cradling her as she coughs and fights for breath.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby. Just breathe—keep breathing,” I plead, brushing wet hair from her face as her eyes flutter open.
As she sucks in deep breaths, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye—Brandon dragging Caleb’s limp body up the bank, dropping him harshly onto the ground.
“Come on, you bastard,” Brandon mutters grimly as he kneels and starts chest compressions.
For a moment, I glance at Caleb—lifeless—and then back to Liv. The weight of everything crashing down on me.
I stay focused on her. Her eyes close again, but I keep talking, whispering her name, as the distant wail of sirens grows louder.
“I thought I lost you,” I choke out, my voice breaking. “God… I thought I lost you.”
The ambulance pulls up, and everything seems to slow down around me. I watch them rush to Liv’s side—her body still, almost lifeless—but my eyes lock on the faint rise and fall of her chest. She’s still breathing. Still fighting.
Paramedics take over CPR from Brandon, who’s been working on Caleb, but after a few tense moments, the paramedics exchange a glance and gently shake their heads, signaling it’s no use.
Brandon slumps back against the bank, the weight of exhaustion dragging down every muscle in his body. I feel that same crushing fatigue settling into my bones.
Our eyes meet—raw, wordless—and for a moment, nothing else exists except the silent understanding that passes between us.
Brandon rises unsteadily to his feet and crosses over to me. His hand grips my shoulder, solid and, grounding. His eyes flick to Liv, now strapped to the stretcher, paramedics moving around her, then back to mine.
“You did good,” he says quietly, voice rough. “You saved her life.”
I shake my head, my breath catching. “I was nearly too late. A few seconds longer…”
He tightens his grip. “She’s alive, Kade. Because of you.”
I swallow hard, my throat thick as I drag a shaking hand across my face, wiping away the tears I hadn’t even noticed. I nod, the weight of it all crashing down but not breaking me—not yet.
The paramedics work fast, lifting Liv carefully onto the stretcher. I don’t let go of her hand. I can’t.
“Sir, you can ride with us,” one of them says, and I’m already moving, climbing into the back of the ambulance without hesitation.
I keep my eyes on her face the whole time—her skin still pale, her breathing shallow but there.
Brandon catches my eye as the doors start to close. He gives me a small nod, quiet but steady. Without words, he’s telling me he’ll be right behind us. That we’re not alone.
The ambulance pulls away, sirens wailing, and I tighten my grip on Liv’s cold hand.
“I’ve got you, baby,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of the engine. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Through the small back window, I catch sight of Brandon behind the wheel of my truck, never straying. But my eyes return to Liv—I can’t look away.
My thumb brushes over her knuckles, careful, gentle, as if touch alone could keep her tethered here with me. She’s alive, I remind myself over and over.
And I swear to God—I’m not letting her slip away again. Not now. Not ever.