Page 111 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow

I want to tell her it’s okay. That it doesn’t hurt anymore. That I’ve already made peace with this. That she’s safe, and that’s all that matters.

I want to tell her how much I love her, how every moment I’ve ever hurt her haunts me. I want to take back the day I walked away, leaving her in the dark and making her feel like she didn’t mean the world to me.

I open my mouth to speak, but my body betrays me. My throat is thick with my own blood, making me choke.

“I love you.” My voice is barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

The only words I can give her.

She shakes her head furiously.

“Don’t do that. Don’t do that!” she sobs, her fingers pressing harder into my skin like she can anchor me here, like she can hold me to this world.

I try to smile, but I don’t know if it actually happens. My body is shutting down. I can feel it.

“I’ve seen you survive this before,” she cries, her hands shaking against mine. “I know you can! Just like in the car crash. You survived that, Alex!!”

But this is different. I can’t fight this. Not this time.

Katherine turns sharply, her gaze snapping to Alice, her entire body shaking with frantic, desperate energy.

“Alice!” she yells, her voice raw, panicked. “What’s happening to him? Why isn’t he healing?!”

Alice doesn’t answer right away. Her lips press into a thin, grim line, her sharp eyes scanning over me, taking in every torn inch, every bleeding wound.

When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet. Heavy. Final.

“His wounds are too many,” she says, the weight of those words settling over the air like a death knell. “He’s mortally injured.” A beat of silence. Then, softer—almost regretful—“I’m sorry, Katherine.”

“No!”

Katherine’s scream rips through the air, raw and broken. She shakes her head furiously, as if sheer will alone can change reality, as if denying it will rewrite fate.

I feel her fingers clutch mine, tight, desperate. I want to speak, to tell her it’s okay, that she doesn’t have to fight this—that she can let go. But the words won’t come.

My voice is gone, stolen by the weight of my failing body. So I do the only thing I can. I squeeze her hand. It’s weak, faint—just the barest press of my fingers against hers. But I hope she feels it.

I hope she knows. I hope she understands that this is me, whispering goodbye.

And then everything fades.

It’s quiet here. Silent. Empty. It feels like I just got here, and have been here an eternity at the same time.

There’s a sudden sound. A voice. Soft. Faint. Calling me.

Katherine.

I don’t hear all of it—not at first. It’s like trying to listen through water, like she’s speaking from a place far, far away. But the more she speaks, the clearer she becomes.

“I need you, Alex,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t live without you. I won’t.”

Something flickers. A spark.

“You saved me,” she says. “Twice now. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. I’d be—” A shaky breath. “I don’t want a world where you’re not in it.”

Something shifts inside me.

Something stirs.

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