Page 96 of Freestyle
But it’s not really pain. It’s permanence.
I want her to stay.Stay.
And then—crack.
Fists. Fury. Shouting. Soldiers.
They think they win, but she felt the burn.
She feltme.
She’ll never not feel me now.
Twenty Five
Grayson
Theshotsplitsthedark.
One sharp crack that rips through the quiet and punches a hole straight through my chest.
I freeze. For half a second. Maybe less.
Then I’m moving.
The fountain comes into view, lit by those pale security lights that make the whole world look like it’s underwater. My boots hit the pavement hard, breath lodged behind my ribs.
Nix.
Rowyn.
Alberto.
Who fired? Who fell?
My vision tunnels as I round the edge of the hedges, and everything slows.
Rowyn’s on the ground, curled into herself, blood on her thigh. No, no, no, but she’s conscious. Breathing. Shaking, but alive.
I drop to my knees beside her so fast my leg scrapes across the pavement. “Baby. Hey, look at me.”
Her eyes flick up.
Wild. Glassy, but focused.
“Gray…” It’s just a breath, a tremble shaped like my name.
“I’ve got you.” My hand finds hers instantly. Cold. Too cold. “You’re okay. You’re safe. Just—just stay with me.” I take off my shirt and drape it across her legs, hoping it will keep her warm.
I brush her hair from her face, scanning for wounds, praying she isn’t hurt.
Nothing—nothing—could prepare me for what I see when I ease Rowyn’s legs gently into my lap and catch sight of the mark.
It’s not just a burn. It’s not just red, raw skin.
It’s deliberate.
It’s personal.
