The sterile scent of the hospital stung my nose before my eyes even fluttered open. A heavy silence wrapped around me, too thick, too suffocating. I shifted, feeling the IV tug at my arm. The ache in my body was a ghost of something much deeper—an emptiness rooted so far inside me that it felt like I was hollow.
I blinked at the ceiling, trying to gather the fragments of my broken memories. The road... the headlights... the sharp, unbearable pain... and then darkness.
And before that... the blood on my hands, the way Kendrick's eyes widened when the pocket knife sank into his side, the rush of adrenaline as I ran.
The door creaked open. I turned my head slowly, my body protesting every movement.
It was him.
Kendrick stood there, a large figure against the harsh fluorescent light.
No tailored suit today, no polished shoes. He looked... shattered.
There was a bandage wrapped around his abdomen where I had stabbed him. His eyes—usually cold and commanding,were rimmed red, hollow, almost... human.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
He moved toward me, slow, almost uncertain. I flinched instinctively, my heart hammering against my ribcage.
He stopped a few feet away, his hands curled into helpless fists at his sides.
"You're awake," he said, his voice hoarse, rough around the edges.
I didn't answer. I didn't have the strength,or the will—to waste my breath on him.
There was something he needed to say, something he struggled to force out. He dragged a chair closer and sank into it, looking like a man who had lost a war he never expected to lose.
"You lost..." He hesitated, his voice cracking. "You lost the baby."
I squeezed my eyes shut, fresh agony slicing through me.
The baby.
My baby.
The tiny spark of hope I'd barely dared to dream about — gone.
Tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them, silent and bitter.
"I'm sorry," Kendrick said, barely a whisper.
I opened my eyes slowly, meeting his gaze for the first time. There was no fire left in me, no hatred powerful enough to ignite the ashes he had reduced me to. Only exhaustion.
"You're sorry?" I croaked. My voice sounded foreign, like it belonged to someone else.
He nodded, his throat working as he tried to swallow the lump that rose there. "I never wanted... this."
His voice cracked again, and I almost believed him.
Almost.
"But you did it," I whispered. "You caged me, broke me, killed every part of me until there was nothing left to save."
He bowed his head like a condemned man awaiting the final blow.
"I loved you," he said, so quietly I almost missed it. "In my own way."
A broken laugh escaped my lips, bitter and raw.
"Your love is a death sentence."
He didn't argue. For once, Kendrick Hale had no defense, no cruelty to hide behind.
The door opened again. Nurse Elise stood there awkwardly, her hands fidgeting at her sides, guilt carved deep into her features. I met her gaze — and turned away.
I didn't have forgiveness for her either.
The machines beeped softly around us, filling the unbearable silence. I could feel the walls closing in, the hospital room shrinking with every beat of my broken heart.
I couldn't stay here. I couldn't stay with him.
Slowly, painfully, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Kendrick stood immediately, reaching out as if to steady me, but I jerked away from his touch.
"No," I said, my voice stronger now. "You don't get to touch me anymore."
His face crumpled, but I didn't care. I grabbed the thin hospital gown tighter around myself and pushed past him, my bare feet cold against the tiled floor.
"Where will you go?" he asked desperately.
"Anywhere that isn't here," I whispered.
"Bek..." He choked on my name. "I can protect you now. I can change."
I paused at the door, turning to look at him one last time.
"You were never my protection," I said. "You were the danger I needed to escape."
And with that, I walked away, not looking back.
Not once.
The hospital corridor stretched before me, sterile and endless.
Each step hurt.
Each breath was a struggle.
But I kept moving.
Outside, the night air was cool against my skin, crisp and biting. I stood under the sickly glow of a streetlamp, wrapping my arms around myself.
I had nothing.
No home.
No family.
No child.
But for the first time in what felt like forever...
I had freedom.
And maybe , just maybe, that was enough to start again.
I tipped my head back, letting the cool air sting my tear-streaked cheeks.
The ashes of who I had been scattered around me, but deep within, something small and stubborn still burned.
Hope.
Not for Kendrick. Not for the life he tried to force on me.
But for myself.
For the woman who had survived...
****
Six Months Later
The sun was warmer here.
I sat at a little café tucked away in a sleepy coastal town, a world away from the mansion, the blood, the shadows of my past.
The ocean breeze tousled my hair, salty and alive, and for the first time in so long, I didn't flinch at the sound of laughter nearby.
I sipped my coffee, staring out at the vast stretch of blue waves crashing against the shore. Freedom still tasted strange on my tongue — like something fragile and unfamiliar, but I was learning to savor it.
I was healing.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Honestly.
There were still nights when the past clawed its way back into my dreams. Still moments when grief wrapped around my chest like iron chains.
But I didn't drown in it anymore.
I let myself feel it.
I let myself grieve.
And then I let it go.. piece by piece, day by day.
I had started therapy.
Found a small apartment above a bookstore run by a kind, elderly woman named Margaret who never asked questions.
I even adopted a scrappy little kitten who thought he owned the world. I named him Ash,for everything I had burned through to get here.
Sometimes, when the wind was just right, I thought I could hear my baby's laugh echoing through the waves, a gentle reminder that I wasn't alone. That my love, my loss, was real, and that it mattered.
I smiled faintly to myself, tracing the rim of my coffee cup.
I had survived Kendrick Hale.
I had survived heartbreak.
I had survived myself.
And now, there was nothing but wide open roads ahead of me.
A blank page.
A fresh start.
A second chance at life.
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, pulled my jacket tighter around me, and stood up.
The town was waiting.
The world was waiting.
And this time, I was ready.
I walked toward the sun, one brave step at a time....