There was no mercy on his face. Only irritation.
He raised his hand again.
The headlights flared brighter.
I shook my head wildly. “No—please—don’t—”
The engine roared.
The car surged forward.
I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate.
I tore myself free from the guards and ran.
“Aria, don’t!” Tristan screamed, his voice already breaking.
I threw myself over him, covering his body with mine.
I heard Thorne shout my name, panic cracking his voice—but it was already too late.
Everything exploded into white.
Pain slammed into my waist. Something snapped inside me. Hot blood flooded my mouth, metallic and choking. The world tilted, blurred, fell apart.
“Aria!” Thorne’s voice sounded distant as hands grabbed me. His fingers brushed the corner of my mouth, wiping away blood as if that could undo anything. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” he kept repeating, like the words alone could save me.
Then the secretary burst in, breathless, all urgency and performance. “Sir, we found her,” she said brightly. “She’s in the suburbs. Injured and terrified. No one can get close, but she keeps calling your name.”
Thorne froze.
Like someone had flipped a switch.
They rushed Tristan and me into an ambulance, sirens screaming as we sped toward the hospital. But halfway there, chaos exploded at the ER entrance. Shouting. Stretchers crashing. Alarms shrieking like a countdown.
“Lilith needs immediate attention,” the secretary whispered urgently, eyes glossy with just the right amount of concern. “She’s in pain—she says her hand might be ruined. One ER doctor is already with Mr. Gu’s son, and the other—” She paused, watching Thorne closely. “We can send someone, but it’ll take at least thirty minutes.”
I saw it then.
That moment where he weighed me.
My broken, bleeding body.
Against her hands.
My lips almost curved into a laugh. I was dying, and he was deciding the fate of fingers. I tried to smile, but blood spilled faster, warmth draining from me as the ceiling swam.
Then Lilith’s voice cut through the noise, fragile and practiced. “W‑Thorne… please. I’m a surgeon. My hands are everything. If they’re damaged, I’m finished. I’m so sorry… I should have died today. I was just lucky to escape.”
She cried perfectly.
That was enough.
Thorne turned without hesitation. “Save her first,” he ordered. “She can’t lose her hands.” Then, like an afterthought, “Aria, hold on a little longer.”