KIERAN'S POV
I hated this feeling—the way my world tilted every time she bled and I wasn't there to stop it.
"Sera?!" My roar echoed through the phone. "Sera, answer me!"
Nothing. Just that horrifying thud after her slurred, "I think I've been shot."
The anger I'd felt moments earlier—when Celeste called sobbing about Sera's taunts—evaporated. In its place: wildfire panic, scorching through my veins.
I was out the door before my chair hit the floor. The tracking app on my phone—the one I'd kept active post-divorce, despite every logical reason not to—led me to Griffith Park. I drove like the hounds of hell were chasing me, cursing Sera's stubbornness for moving so damn far away.
What followed was a nightmare in fragments:
Blood. So much blood, pooling beneath her as I pressed my hand to the silver bullet wound still pulsing in her chest.
Speed. The longest thirty minutes of my life, her labored breaths the only sound in my car as I ran every red light.
