Page 114 of Wreckage

The doorcrashed open.

I jerked upright, eyes burning, vision blurring from days of hunger and exhaustion.

Voices shouted. Boots pounded against the metal floor. A hand landed on my shoulder as I tried to understand the commotion.

“Adrian.”

I flinched.

“We’re here to help, OK?”

I blinked, confused.

Not real. This wasn’t real. I was dreaming. Hell, maybe I was already dead, and this was the welcome party on the other side.

The voice spoke again. “Smart thing, building that fire for us.”

I gasped, my throat tightening. I tried to focus and make sense of what was happening. “W-What?”

“We have Troy. Now we need to get you guys to safety,” another voice called out.

My heart stopped.

Troy.

TROY.

I let out a broken, wrecked sob, my body collapsing in on itself.

Troy was alive. His Hail Mary had worked.

It always worked.

I turned to Elena, my hands gripping her weakly, shaking her, begging her to wake up, to open her eyes, to just breathe.

“She—she’s not—” I choked, barely able to speak through my tears.

Someone knelt beside me, checking her pulse, pressing fingers against her too-cold skin.

“She’s still here,” they assured me. “We need to move now if we want to keep her alive.”

Still here.

I let out a gasping sob, my body shaking violently, my hands still gripping her weakly.

Someone tried to lift me, but my legs gave out.

“Let her go, Adrian. We need to hurry. A storm is coming in, and she needs help. We got her.”

I let my hand slip away from hers, the hollow feeling making me feel like I was dying inside.

Please, Elena…

I hit the floor hard, but strong arms caught me before I completely face-planted, holding me up as I sagged against them.

They carried me out. I heard shouting, more movement, more chaos. I could barely see through my tears, barely focus on anything but Elena, Elena, Elena—my sweet butterfly.

Fuck, please, save her.

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