(Scarlett’s POV)
The police swarm through the warehouse like ants, their boots echoing against concrete, their radios crackling with static and urgent voices. Someone's calling for medics. Someone else is securing the perimeter.
But I can't focus on any of it.
Virginia and I are still on our knees beside James, our hands covered in his blood. Jasper stands behind us, one hand on my shoulder, the other on Virginia's. Dorian's talking to the officers, his voice low and urgent, explaining what happened.
"We need to move back," one of the paramedics says gently. "Let us work."
"No." Virginia's voice is raw, broken. "I'm not leaving him."
"Miss, please. We need space to—"
"He's my father!" She screams it, the words tearing from her throat. "He's my father and I just found him and I'm not
