Aria's POV
"Call an ambulance!" I screamed. "Someone call an ambulance!"
Blood soaked through Damien's shirt. Too much blood. His face was pale. His breathing shallow.
"Stay with me," I begged. "Don't you dare close your eyes!"
People were running. Screaming. Someone tackled Victor to the ground. His gun slid across the floor.
But I didn't care about any of that. I only cared about the man dying in my arms.
"Damien, please. You can't die. Not now. Not like this."
His eyes fluttered open. "Always so dramatic," he whispered. "It's just my shoulder."
"What?"
He coughed, wincing in pain. "The bullet hit my shoulder. Not my heart. I'll live."
Relief flooded through me so fast I almost passed out. "You'll live?"
"Unfortunately for you, yes. Now you're stuck with me." He tried to smile but it came out as a grimace. "Did you really think I'd die this easily? I've been living the same three years six times. I'm harder to kill than you think."
The ambulance sirens wailed outside. Paramedics burst through the door.
"Gun shot wound, right shoulder," one of them said, kneeling beside us. "Sir, we need to get you to a hospital."
"I'm fine—"
"You're not fine. You're bleeding everywhere." The paramedic looked at me. "Are you hurt?"
"No. I'm... I'm okay."
They lifted Damien onto a stretcher. He grabbed my hand before they could take him away.
"Don't run," he said urgently. "Promise me. Don't disappear like you did in every other loop."
"I won't—"
"Promise me, Aria!"
"I promise!"
They wheeled him away. I stood there covered in his blood, shaking.
Someone touched my shoulder. I spun around.
The man in the suit from earlier. "Miss Chen, I'm Marcus Stone. Mr. Cross's assistant. I'll drive you to the hospital."
"What about the police? They'll want statements—"
"I'll handle it. Right now, we need to get you cleaned up and to the hospital before Mr. Cross has a panic attack worrying about you."
He led me to a private bathroom. Gave me a clean shirt from somewhere. Drove me to the hospital in a car that cost more than my entire apartment building.
We didn't talk during the drive. I was too busy replaying everything.
Damien had been in a time loop. Six times through the same three years. And every single time, he died on April 14, 2026.
The same day I died.
That couldn't be random. We were connected. Our deaths were tied together somehow.
And now he'd taken a bullet for me. Changed his loop by saving my life.
What did that mean? Would he still die in 2026? Would the loop reset? Would he forget everything again?
"He'll be fine," Marcus said suddenly. "Mr. Cross is too stubborn to die from a shoulder wound. Trust me, I've seen him survive worse."
"Worse than getting shot?"
Marcus's expression darkened. "You have no idea what he's been through. The loops... they broke him. Each time he wakes up on January 1, 2024, he remembers everything. Every death. Every failure. Every person he couldn't save."
"How long has he been looping?"
"Six times. That's eighteen years of living the same three years. Eighteen years of watching the same people die on the same dates and not being able to stop it." Marcus glanced at me. "Until today. You changed something. Made a choice that never happened before."
"I didn't mean to—"
"I know. But you did. And now everything's different. Victor wasn't supposed to come back with a gun. That never happened in previous loops. Mr. Cross wasn't supposed to get shot. None of this was in the pattern."
"Is that good or bad?"
"I don't know," Marcus admitted. "But Mr. Cross seems to think you're the key to breaking his curse. So whatever you're doing, keep doing it."
We arrived at the hospital. Marcus led me through private hallways to a VIP room.
Damien was already out of surgery. Sitting up in bed, his shoulder bandaged, looking annoyed.
"Three hours," he said when he saw me. "They took three hours for a simple bullet wound. I could've stitched it myself faster."
"You're welcome for saving your life," a doctor said dryly. "Try not to get shot again."
The doctor left. Marcus left. It was just us.
"You promised not to run," Damien said.
"I didn't run. I'm right here."
"Good." He patted the bed beside him. "Sit. We need to talk about April 14, 2026."
I sat carefully. "What happens that day?"
"In every loop, I die in a car crash. Same intersection. Same time. 8:47 PM."
"How?"
"Someone runs a red light. Hits my car. I die before the ambulance arrives." His jaw clenched. "I've tried everything. Different routes. Different times. Not driving at all. Nothing works. I still end up dead at that intersection at exactly 8:47 PM."
"What if it's not the intersection? What if it's something else that kills you?"
"That's what I thought. But it's always the same. Car crash. Head injury. Dead."
"And me? How do I die?"
"You were singing at a bar. Stage collapsed. You died from the fall." He looked at me intently. "But that was your first timeline. You've changed everything by coming back. Maybe your death isn't fixed anymore."
"But yours still is?"
"I don't know. Today was different. I got shot. That never happened before. Maybe that means the timeline is finally breaking." He reached for my hand. "Or maybe it means something worse is coming."
A knock on the door interrupted us.
A nurse poked her head in. "Mr. Cross? There's someone here to see you. She says it's urgent."
"I'm not seeing anyone—"
The door opened wider.
Maya walked in.
I stood up fast. "Get out."
"Wait, please!" She looked different. Scared. No makeup. Red eyes from crying. "I need to talk to you. Both of you."
"You recorded me almost getting shot," I said coldly. "You wanted me dead on camera. Why would I listen to anything you say?"
"Because I know why you both keep dying!" Maya's voice shook. "I know about the loops. The time travel. All of it. And I know who's causing it."
Damien sat up straighter, ignoring the pain. "What did you say?"
"Someone is doing this to you. On purpose. Trapping you in these cycles. Making you die over and over." Maya pulled out her phone. Showed us a photo.
It was a contract. Old and yellowed.
Written in ink that looked like blood.
"My grandmother made a deal thirty years ago," Maya whispered. "She sold your futures to keep herself alive. And now you're both paying the price."
The room went dead silent.
"Who's your grandmother?" I asked.
Maya's hand shook as she pointed to a signature at the bottom of the contract.
Catherine Chen
My mother's name.
My mother sold me.