Chapter 147

Chapter 147
Lily’s POV

The hospital’s sterile air chokes me, sending a cold, antiseptic sting that seeps into my bones as I sit in the pre-op room, my hand clutching Crew’s, his warmth the only anchor keeping me from drowning.

My heart’s beating fast, my ribs throbbing, each breath a sharp reminder of Dad’s fists—his rage over my Vermont photos with Crew, his “You’re a whore!” echoing, his kicks that cracked my bones, his blows that left Mom bleeding.

June’s call floods my mind, her voice filled with pain from Fig’s betrayal—drugging her, stealing her baby—a wound that mirrors my own, fueling a sickening hatred for Dad, for Fig, monsters who shatter what they touch.

I pray, silent, desperate, Please, God, let us come through, let Mom be okay, let me stay with Crew, let June heal.

Today’s the day of our surgeries—my internal bleeding, Mom’s collapsed lung—and fear claws at me, sending a suffocating weight, making my body tremble in the thin hospital gown.

Crew’s eyes, fierce and steady, lock on mine, his love a fire burning through my panic, my shield against the terror of what’s coming.

I pray, silent, desperate, Please, God, let us come through, let Mom be okay, let me stay with Crew.

“Lily,” Crew says, his voice low, his thumb tracing circles on my hand, his other hand brushing my bruised cheek, gentle, mindful of my swollen jaw, my blackened eye.

“You’re gonna be fine, baby. Both of you. The doctors are the best—Billy made sure. I’m right here, not going anywhere.” His words are a life, his love a blaze, but my fear—Mom’s frail body, her bloodied lip, her years under Dad’s fists—chokes me, making my tears fall, my heart aching for her, for us.

“I’m so scared,” I whisper, my voice cracking, my tears soaking his hand, my body shaking.

“What if something goes wrong? What if Mom doesn’t…” I can’t finish, as my sob tears free, the image of her crumpled under Dad’s boots, my bite on his head to save her, a memory that haunts me.

“I need her, Crew. I need you.” My words are a plea, my love for him— my fear of losing Mom, of losing myself, a storm I’m barely weathering.

June’s pain—Fig’s violation —stokes my hatred, my resolve to live, to protect Mom from men like them, monsters who destroy without remorse.

He leans in, placing his forehead to mine, his breath warm, his eyes fierce, glistening with unshed tears.

“You’re not losing anyone, Lil,” he says, his voice fierce, his hands cupping my face, soft but firm.

“You fought that bastard, saved your mom, got out. You’re a fucking warrior, and you’re both coming through this. I’ve got you, always.” His words pierce me, his faith in me a light, my courage—dragging Mom to the woods, calling him—a spark he’s fanning.

I nod, my sobs quieting, his love a shield, but my prayer repeats, Please, let us live, let us be free.

Mom’s gurney is nearby, her eyes closed, her face pale, bruised, her breaths shallow, a tube already in her arm.

I squeeze Crew’s hand, my voice a whisper. “She’s so weak,” I say, my tears falling, my heart breaking. “She took his hits for years, for me. If she doesn’t make it…” My voice cracks, guilt flickering as I remember—her silence, her endurance, a sacrifice I didn’t see until now. I pray again, God, save her, she’s all I have besides him.

Crew’’s arm wraps around me, his body a fortress, his voice fierce.

“She’s strong, Lil, like you. She’s fighting, and we’re fighting for her. The surgeons know their shit—your mom’s lung, your bleeding, they’ve got it handled.” His confidence is fire, his love is fire, but my fear lingers, Dad’s shadow—his “I’ll kill you!”—a ghost I can’t shake.

I lean into Crew, my head on his chest, his heartbeat steady, my prayer a chant, Please, let us heal, let Dad’s rage die.

Then a nurse approaches, her face is kind but firm.

“It’s time,Miss Lily,” she says, and my heart lurches, panic spiking, my grip on Crew tightening.

Mom’s gurney moves first, wheeled toward her surgery room, and I choke on a sob, my voice breaking. “Mom,” I call, weak, her eyes fluttering as it opens a little, meeting mine, she gives a faint smile, her love a spark as they wheel her off.

I pray, God, bring her back to me.

Crew stands, helping me onto my gurney, his hands steady, his eyes locked on mine. “You’re my everything, Lil,” he says, his voice low, his tears falling now, a vulnerability that guts me.

“You’ll wake up, and I’ll be there, holding you, loving you. Your mom too. Trust me.”

His words are firm and sincere, his love a blaze, my fear easing, his necklace a vow I feel. I nod, my tears streaming, my prayer a scream, Please, let me wake to him, to Mom, to life.

They wheel me away, Crew’s hand slipping from mine, his “I love you” a whisper I carry, his figure fading as the doors close.

The surgery room’s cold, the lights harsh, the anesthesiologist’s voice distant as the mask covers my face.

“You'll be fine Miss. We're starting now.” One of the doctors tells me.

I nodded slowly.

“You won’t feel any pain.” Another added. “Inject her now.”

My heart races, my prayer a final plea, God, protect us, let us live, let Crew’s love be enough.

I think of Vermont—his lips, his cock, his heart mine—of Mom’s sacrifice, of June’s call, her offer of safety. My fear is a storm, but Crew’s love is my anchor, his “You’re a warrior” a truth I’m fighting for.

The world blurs as my eyes closes, darkness pulls, my prayer fading, Please, let us be free. Let us be fre…

Let us b…

Let….

The last thing I see is Crew’s eyes, fierce, loving, a fire I’ll return to, no matter the pain, no matter the dark.