The world felt impossibly quiet after the shot. Not a single sound except our breathing, jagged and uneven, the echo of violence still hanging in the air. Lucian’s arms around me were iron-strong, holding me as if the very fabric of the universe would try to pull me away if he let go. My body trembled—not just from fear, but from the weight of everything we had just endured.
I blinked against my tears, trying to make sense of it. Alive. We were alive. And yet, the darkness of what could have happened lingered like smoke in my lungs. I could feel it curling around my heart, a reminder that survival was never accidental. It was earned, and it came at a price.
My father knelt beside us, voice rough and broken: “Sophie… you… you’re alive.” He reached out, but his hands trembled so violently
