Page 26 of Wreckage

Adrian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his other hand still resting lightly against Elena’s cheek.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “She’s bad. She’s not woken once all night. I stayed up to watch over you guys. S-She doesn’t even respond when I touch her.”

I clenched my jaw. “She will. She’ll be OK, man. I promise she will. She won’t leave. She’s too strong for that.”

Silence stretched between us.

The only sound was the wind howling through the wreckage, the faint crackling of a dying fire somewhere outside the plane.

I hated it. I hated this waiting—this helplessness. I hated how fragile she looked between us. I hated how scared I was that Adrian might be right.

“Come on, Elena,” Adrian whispered so softly I barely heard it.

His thumb brushed lightly against her temple, where dried blood had caked over a deep cut.

It was such a careful, reverent touch that my breath caught. Because I knew Adrian, he didn’t do gentle. He didn’t do care. Not for her. Not for anyone. And yet, he was holding her like she was something precious. Like she was the only thing keeping him together.

I turned away, my throat tight. I didn’t want to think about what this meant. I didn’t want to question why this moment felt so heavy. I just wanted her to wake up.

Adrian took a shaky breath. “She’s not strong enough for this.”

I whipped my head toward him. “Bullshit. You fucking know she is.”

He flinched slightly, but his expression remained blank.

“She’s weak, Troy,” he muttered. “She’s always been weak.”

I stared at him, my pulse thrumming.

“No,” I said slowly. “She’s not.”

His eyes darkened, his bottom lip wobbling. “You don’t know that.”

I shook my head. “She’s still breathing, isn’t she?”

He swallowed, his hands tightening into a fist beside her.

I knew what he was doing. He was trying to make himself believe it didn’t matter. That she didn’t matter, but it was too late for that. For both of us.

I exhaled and shifted closer, tucking the blanket more securely over us.

“We’ll make it,” I whispered.

Adrian didn’t respond. His jaw flexed, his eyes flickering toward Elena again. His fingers curled over hers beneath the blanket against mine, gripping just a little tighter.

I closed my eyes, feeling exhaustion pull at me again.

I refused to let go of her hand.

Adrian did the same.

As the morning stretched on, the wind howling through the wreckage, we held onto her, praying she would still be with us when our eyes opened again.

Chapter 11

Adrian

Iwoke to cold air slicing through my lungs, my muscles stiff and aching from the crash. Everything hurt. But it wasn’t the pain that made my chest tighten—it was Elena.

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