Page 140 of Requiem
And the second the surgery doors close between us, the world finally goes quiet enough for the horror to settle in. The doors at the end of the corridor open again before I can even fully process Emma being taken away from me.
Rafe is being brought in next. His shirt is soaked dark at the shoulder and neck where the bullet tore through him, but his expression is steady as always. Like he’s not even in pain.
And Adela is at his side. Blood is still smeared across her cheek from Erik’s punch, hair tangled, hands trembling so badly she keeps having to clench them into fists just to make them stop. But she still moves confidently.
“Hey,” Rafe murmurs as they wheel him past us. Even now, the asshole somehow manages a faint, crooked smile. “Try not to look like you’re about to commit murder in a hospital. It’s frowned upon.”
“Shut up,” Adela snaps, leaning closer as the stretcher moves further away from us.
“I’m fine,” he adds quietly, softer now. “I’m fine, little doe.”
Her breath catches hard at that, and a beautiful smile forms on her face. “My nightmare.”
He smiles back.
I stare after them, heart clenching at their nicknames for one another. She just keeps walking beside him until they reach the next set of doors.
And then he’s gone, too.
The second the doors swing shut behind him, Adela stands there for half a heartbeat like she’s not sure what to do. Then she turns back toward us and walks straight into me. She wraps her arms around my middle and holds on. I feel her shake against me.
Kieran is standing a few feet away, blood still on his hands, staring at the doors Rafe just disappeared through like he’s waiting for them to open again and undo everything that just happened. Nico is already speaking quietly with hospital staff, switching between Russian and English so fast it blurs together at this point.
But none of it feels real. Because Emma is gone. Micah is gone. Rafe is gone.
And everything around us is still moving, as if our world hadn’t just been changed forever. Adela finally pulls back just enough to breathe, wiping her face roughly with her sleeve, smearing blood across her skin in the process. Her hands are still shaking.
The moment we turn toward the waiting area, it gets worse.
The hallway opens into a sterile, fluorescent space that feels too bright for what we’ve survived. Chairs line the walls, and a television is playing something muted in the corner. Everything smells like disinfectant trying to erase the fact that people are bleeding out somewhere behind every door in this place.
And then it hits me all at once. Emma is behind one of those doors, Micah is behind another, and Adriana is dead. The realization doesn’t come as a thought. It comes as animpact.
My legs stop working properly.
I don’t even remember sitting down. I just remember my back hitting the wall, sliding down it until I’m on the floor, elbows on my knees, head dropping forward like my body can’t hold itself upright anymore.
Heather drops down beside me, hands grabbing at my shirt. “I can’t do this,” she whispers. Then again, louder, more desperate. “I can’t do this, I can’t—”
Her voice collapses. And I lose it with her, everything at once finally finding somewhere to go. I pull her closer without thinking, and she grips me back just as hard, both of us sitting on the cold hospital floor. No words come because there aren’t any that fit. Just shaking breaths and broken cries.
Across the room, Adela is pacing now, wiping at her face. Kieran is still standing near the wall, unmoving, staring into nothing. Nico is talking quietly into his phone again, voice low.
And at the edges of all of it…police.
Two officers are near the entrance, another speaking to paramedics, and a third watching us. They don’t move closer, but they’re waiting. But I don’t give a fuck how they’re looking at us right now. Because my soul is pouring out of me.
***
I don’t know how long we’ve been sitting there together, but time is blurring, and my thoughts aren’t even really registering. They’ll pass through my mind, but that’s it. I can’t hold onto any of them. Almost like a bad fucking acid trip.
My tears have dried against my face, and Heather has gone quiet beside me. Not long ago, we were told Rafe would be okay and that he just needed blood, rest, and stitches. Adela has already gone and visited him, but they sent her back out here so he could sleep a little. She’s curled up against Nico on a small couch in the corner of the room, with her legs in Kieran’s lap. Both men seem to be trying to doze off.
My cheek rests against the top of Heather’s head. Now that the adrenaline has faded, we’re exhausted. It’s safe to say that when my body was crashing, it was crashinghard. Distant voices, footsteps, and phone calls are all I can hear, so when the main entrance doors open just down the hall, I barely register it. It’s only a draft of cold from outside slipping into the warmth of the waiting area.
Three figures approach, and at first, I don’t pay them any mind. I’m not connecting faces or names. I just acknowledge movement and then try to discard it, like everything else tonight. Because my brain is already overloaded and full to the point of collapse. I don’t even know how I’m still awake or functioning right now, to be honest. I’m staring at a tiny stain on the carpet that looks like it could be coffee.
Then Heather stiffens beside me.
