Page 36 of Wreckage

I hesitated, watching her carefully, but she didn’t say anything else.

She just looked sad.

And I hated that more than anything.

“Try to rest,” I said, my voice softer now.

Elena gave me a slight, barely-there nod before closing her eyes.

I lingered for a moment, staring at her, memorizing the lines of herface, the way exhaustion clung to her features. Then, finally, I stood and followed Adrian outside.

When the cold hit me, I took a slow breath and looked at him.

“She’s in worse shape than she’s letting on,” I muttered.

Adrian’s expression darkened. “I know.”

I exhaled sharply, clenching my fists. “We need to get her out of here.”

Adrian met my gaze, and we agreed for the first time in years.

“We will.”

I swallowed hard and looked back toward the wreckage where Elena lay, curled up in pain.

I wished I could take it away.

And I could.

If I could get us rescued.

Chapter 14

Adrian

The cold seeped into my bones, stiffening my joints as Troy and I trudged through the snow, gathering whatever we could salvage from the wreckage. The sharp wind cut across my face, but I ignored it. There was no room for weakness out here.

Pain gnawed at my muscles with every movement. My entire body ached from the crash, from sleeping on the raft, from the strain of keeping myself together when everything was unraveling.

And then there was her.

Elena.

My chest tightened just thinking about her.

She had spent the remainder of the day asleep, curled up in that ragged excuse of a blanket, her breathing shallow, her face pale. Her ankle was a mess. It was hard to look at it without my stomach twisting.

She was supposed to be a ballerina.

I had never considered her dancing much, but I knew it was her dream. My father used to talk about how she had talent and could actually make it if she kept it.

And now?

If her ankle didn’t heal right—if we didn’t get out of here soon—her dream could die before it even had the chance to take flight fully.

I hated that thought.

Elena was… fragile in a way that had nothing to do with physicality. She was quiet and reserved, always keeping to herself. She would always me of a butterfly, delicate yet graceful, always just out of reach.

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