Zayne's POV
I have faced gunfire. I have stared down men who wanted me dead.
None of that compares to the terror of watching Aurora slip away in my arms. Her body goes limp without warning.
One second, she’s breathing, shallow, uneven, but breathing. The next thing was her weight collapsing against me like someone had cut the strings holding her upright.
“Aurora?” I call her name sharply.
No response. My heart slams against my ribs.
I tighten my grip instinctively, pulling her closer, lowering her carefully onto the gurney as blood seeps through the white bandage at her side. Too much blood. Far too much.
Her skin is pale, unnaturally pale. Her lips have lost all color.
“No, no, no,” I mutter. “Stay with me.”
I press two fingers to her neck.
Her pulse is there, but barely.
Thin.
