Page 162 of Corrupted Heart

Suddenly, something’s splitting the darkness.

A hand, reaching for me. I try to reach back, but I can’t. All I can do is sink deeper, growing number.

Weaker.

Fading faster.

The hand thrusts deeper, gleaming, surrounded by a halo of light.

Save me, I want to whisper. Pull me from the darkness. I fell in love with your light.

But I can’t.

It just all grows darker and colder.

And then—there’s nothing at all.

32

BIANCA

Under the sterile fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway, Callie crashes into my arms. She clings to me, sobbing against my shoulder as I cry into hers. Through the tears, I’m dimly aware of others moving toward us: Ares, Hades, and Deimos. My brothers. Tempest.

Callie pulls away, and I collapse into Dante’s embrace next, my tears staining his shirt as he holds me tightly.

Through the chaos and heartbreak exploding through my system, I hear the hushed murmurs of tense, serious words being spoken around me.

Fell twenty-five stories…

The bullet pierced his lung…

Sepsis…

That Amaya bitch is dead…

Drazen pulled them both out… Bianca wouldn’t let go…

It comes back to me in flashes. I remember leaping out into space and feeling the yank of gravity. Not “facing” my fear of submersion, just simply not remembering I even had one as I dove under the water.

I remember reaching through the darkness for him, looking into his eyes as consciousness faded from them. Swimming deeper to grab him. Pulling with all my strength, lungs burning as I kicked toward the surface.

I remember Drazen screaming at me to take his hand. I remember refusing to let go of Kratos, and the Serbian kingpin diving in next to me to help pull Kratos’ bulk out of the water.

She saved him…

I shudder as I sob into Dante’s chest.

I don’t know if I even did. Nobody does. Right now, Kratos is in emergency surgery with a specialist that just got airlifted here from Boston. When I grabbed a nurse ten minutes ago and asked what his chances were, she just pursed her lips and told me the important thing was to remember that I loved him.

I do.

And I’m not ready to lose him.

I can’t.

The conversations around me go silent. Turning, my eyes land on Dimitra as she steps into the middle of us. With a sob, I pull away from my brother and rush to her. My arms wrap tightly around her, and I start to cry with more anguish and pain than I’ve ever felt before.

“I’m sorry,” I choke, clinging to her for dear life as the frail little old lady hugs me back firmly, being my rock. “I’m so, so sorry?—”

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