Mitchell
Stella.
My Stella.
The world narrows to a single point the moment I see her—strapped to a metal table, her chest open, blood draining through tubes like she’s nothing more than a lab specimen. She’s so pale, and if I couldn’t see her heart slowly beating, I’d think she was dead.
Shock rushes through me, and my heart breaks into a million pieces. My knees hit the floor so hard I don’t feel the pain.
“Stella… Stella, no. No, no, no-no, no—” My voice cracks, breaking apart like glass. I reach for her hand—cold, limp, lifeless—and the breath is punched right out of me. “Stella, please,” I whisper, pressing her fingers to my lips. “I’m here. I’m right here. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”
But she doesn’t move.
She doesn’t flinch.
She doesn’t even breathe properly.
Her chest ris
