Vincent's POV
Hope can be the cruelest weapon. Because it keeps you waiting… and waiting… even when you're dying inside.
"Vincent?"
I turned so fast….and there she was.
Zaara stumbled into the room like she was stepping out of a storm. Her hair hung wet and tangled around her face, plastered to her skin. Her cheeks were blotchy from dried tears. Blood streaked both sides of her jumpsuit, dried into colored stains. The front of her jumpsuit was torn across one thigh, smudged with dirt and blood.
My heart punched my ribs.
"Zaara—" I got up so fast my chair crashed to the floor.
"I'm okay…" Her voice broke. "I'm okay…"
Then the strength drained from her knees. She crashed into me, pressing her forehead into my chest so hard.
I wrapped my arms around her so tight.
Behind her, Jojo staggered through the doorway, leaning heavily against the concrete wall. Her skin was pale. She lifted a blood-soaked rag to her mouth.
I swallowed hard.
"Omgg…jojo…."
