Page 25 of Wreckage

Dean was gone.

His body was twisted unnaturally, face battered beyond recognition, blood pooling around him. A thick branch jutted out from his chest.

A strangled noise ripped from my throat.

I turned away, pressing the heel of my palm against my forehead as tears flooded my cheeks.

Fuck.

I liked Dean. Hell, I loved him. He was like an uncle to us. We’d known him and his family for years. Growing up, I didn’t have many memories that he wasn’t part of. He had been good to us.

My hands clenched into fists while my throat burned with rising grief. There was nothing I could do for him now.

I staggered back toward Adrian and Elena, my body on the brink of collapse.

Adrian looked up the moment I approached.

I didn’t say a word. I just shook my head. His shoulders sagged. His eyes darkened in the moonlight.

I dropped next to him, my body screaming in protest.

“We have to keep one another warm,” I said hoarsely into his ear. “We’ll die for sure if we don’t. Tomorrow, we can try to get this shit sorted. I-I don’t know what we can do tonight.”

Adrian nodded numbly before he spoke.

“I guess we pray,” he whispered.

I nodded grimly before I shifted and got into the seat on Elena’s other side, draping another blanket over us.

She was still so pale.

So still.

I said a silent prayer for us all as I wrapped my arms around her body in an attempt to keep us all warm, Adrian following.

Sleep was supposedto bring relief, but there was none.

The cold bit deep, numbing me from the inside out. Every breath was sharp, every muscle in my body locked so tightly I felt like I might never move again.

I drifted in and out of consciousness, the weight of exhaustion pressing down, the ache in my bones reminding me with each heartbeat that we were barely holding on.

Elena’s hand was still in mine. Frail. Cold. I squeezed it lightly, praying for a response. Any response.

Nothing.

I wasn’t even sure she was still breathing, and I was too weak to check. I dozed off again, and when I woke, a fresh wave of panic rolled through me, snapping me awake fully.

I turned to Adrian.

He was awake, too, his eyes locked on her.

His face was stiff, his jaw tight, but something else was there—fear. Desperation.

I had never seen Adrian look like this, like he was falling apart. Like he was unraveling at the seams. The sight of it made something ugly twist in my chest.

I tightened my grip on Elena’s hand, willing warmth back into her. The sun was barely peeking through the trees.

“She’s going to be OK,” I murmured, though I wasn’t sure if I was saying it for him or myself.

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