(Ayra's POV)
There was blood on my hands. Warm, thick, and horrifyingly real. Darius's blood.
"No, no, no," I whimpered, cradling his head in my lap.
Darius groaned, his body twitching in pain. "I promised you… I'd protect you… always." he murmured... and then he passed out.
"Wake up, Darius!" I sobbed. "Just stay awake. Please, Darius. You promised. You said we'd get through everything together, remember?"
His blood was pooling beneath him. The scent made my stomach churn.
Steven had ripped a piece of clothing, and I pressed it to Darius's side, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.
"Stay with me, Darius! Please, don't do this. Don't leave me. Not like this."
My nightdress was soaked from his blood. But I didn't care.
All that mattered was keeping him alive.
Steven was already on the phone with emergency services.
His voice was calm, but the panic in his eyes was unmistakable.
"Gunshot wound. Male, mid-thirties. Heavy bleeding. Send help fast!"
