Chapter 70: Before Us

The tires screeched as Pablo pulled into the gas station lot, his headlights cutting across the rows of parked cars. His chest was tight, his pulse wild — every second of that drive had stretched like an eternity. He didn’t even remember the red lights he’d blown through or the horns that blared after him.

Then he saw her.

Giana’s car sat near the back of the lot, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were white. Even from a distance, he could see her trembling.

He slammed his car into park and was out the door before the engine fully stopped.

“Giana!” he called, his voice raw.

The moment she saw him, her fear cracked. She stumbled out of the car, her breath hitching as she ran toward him.

He caught her halfway, arms wrapping around her so tightly it was as if he could shield her from the entire world. Her body melted into his — trembling, fragile, alive.

“I’m here,” he breathed against her hair, holding her closer. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

She clung to him, sobbing quietly into his chest, her hands fisting into his shirt. For a long moment, neither of them moved. The world shrank to the sound of their breathing, to the feel of her heartbeat pressed against his.

Pablo’s body was shaking — not from cold, but from the terror that had gripped him since the moment she’d said, Someone’s following me. The thought of losing her — of something happening to her because of him — had torn something raw open inside him.

He pulled back just enough to see her face. His hands came up to cup her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “You’re okay,” he whispered, as if saying it might make it true. “I swear, you’re okay now.”

Her eyes, still wet, searched his. “Who was he, Pablo? Why was someone following me?”

He hesitated, the truth heavy on his tongue. “I think I know who’s behind it. Someone from before.”

“Before what?” she pressed, her voice trembling. “Before us?”

He swallowed hard, guilt flickering through his eyes. “It’s complicated. I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t want to drag you into—”

“Into what, Pablo?” she whispered, voice cracking. “You need to tell me—”

Her words broke off mid-sentence. Her body swayed.

“Giana?”

Her eyelids fluttered, her hand clutching at his arm as her knees buckled. Pablo caught her before she hit the ground, his arms wrapping around her limp form. Panic surged through him like fire.

“Giana!” he shouted, tapping her cheek gently. “Hey—hey, stay with me, baby. Look at me.”

No response. Her head rested against his shoulder, her breathing shallow.

He fumbled for his phone, pressing the emergency call. “I need an ambulance,” he said, his voice shaking. “Gas station on Pine and East Ridge — a woman’s unconscious. Please hurry.”

He knelt there on the cold pavement, cradling her against him, whispering her name again and again.

When the sirens finally pierced the air, relief and dread collided in his chest. He didn’t let go even as the EMTs rushed toward them. They eased her onto a stretcher, checking her pulse and vitals, voices brisk but calm.

“She’s breathing steadily,” one of them said. “We’ll take her to Rose Hill General.”

Pablo climbed into the ambulance beside her, refusing to leave her hand. Her skin was cold, and every bump in the road made his grip tighten. He kept whispering — not words, just quiet fragments of prayer, apology, hope and love