Like my life was an appointment that could be delayed.
I tried to speak. I didn’t do anything. The words dissolved into slurred sounds. The room spun. His eyes flicked to mine for half a second—pity, calculation, maybe both—then he walked away, following the stretcher carrying Lilith.
They wheeled me somewhere else, but I heard his footsteps fade in the opposite direction.
The ceiling tiles blurred above me, and I thought, How can someone’s conscience be bought so easily by tears and timing?
I had nothing left to fight with. Time crawled. Every breath felt borrowed. I truly believed I would die on that table—until stubborn instinct dragged me back from the edge.
Six hours later, I woke up in a ward I knew far too well.
My throat burned. Pain screamed through my body. But I was alive.
The phone beside my bed vibrated.
When I answered, Thorne’s grandfather’s voice came through—steady, heavy, final. “Aria. Everything is prepared. This is the last step. You won’t regret it.”
I swallowed, forcing my voice to steady. “No. I’m ready to leave. Book three tickets. Once it’s done, I want to disappear immediately.”
I was about to ask him to confirm the details—
When the door slammed open.
My blood turned to ice.
“Aria,” Thorne said quietly, leaning against the doorway, eyes locked onto me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
