248. “How did this happen?”

248. “How did this happen?”
Christopher and William burst in, slamming the corridor doors open with barely contained violence. I shoot up from the chair, my hands still stained with Sebastian’s blood. My dress is covered in it too, though the stains are nearly invisible against the deep red fabric. How ironic.

The expression on my husband’s face is pure desperation. He doesn’t care about the glowing IN SURGERY sign, or that Evelyn’s lifeless body lies in some other room of this hospital. He comes straight to me, wrapping his arms around me, holding me so tightly it might hurt if I weren’t trembling so much, if I didn’t need it so badly.

I breathe in his comforting scent, my shaky, bloodstained hands clutching his suit without caring if I stain it. I don’t care about any of that. I just need Christopher. I just need him to convince me everything will be okay.

He inhales the scent of my hair and squeezes his eyes shut when he catches the metallic tang mixed with my perfume. His fingers grip my waist a little tighter before easing, pulling back just a little to look at me.

Christopher’s hands cradle my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks. Wiping away tears, maybe. Or blood. I can’t even tell. I must look pitiful right now, because his eyes soften, filled with a deep pain that makes his lashes wet, unbothered by William’s equally restless presence.

“What happened?” William asks, looking at both of us with a controlled expression. But I can see the mask cracking. “How did this happen?”

“I… I don’t know.” I pause, shivering as the scene flashes fresh and raw on my skin. Evelyn dropping the knife, pulling out a gun, pulling the trigger—Sebastian on his knees, bleeding.

A chill runs down my spine.
“I think she got the gun from Lazarus…”

Christopher pulls me closer again, tucking my head against his chest. He kisses my hair, resting his chin there.

“Thank God… thank God nothing happened to you…” he murmurs, his voice trembling, his breath unsteady. “I don’t know what I’d do. I couldn’t stand losing you again.”

I know he’s telling the truth. I can hear his heart pounding frantically against my ear, refusing to calm even with me in his arms, even with my warmth pressed to him, even after seeing I’m in one piece. He still trembles. He still holds me as if the world might steal me away again.

“Sebastian saved me…” My voice breaks, dissolving into a sob. “If it weren’t for him, I…”

Christopher closes his eyes for a moment, as if Sebastian’s name were another blade stabbing into his chest. His jaw tightens, his fingers tangled in my hair.

“He threw himself in front of it?” His voice is hoarse, almost a whisper. When I don’t answer right away and only nod, I feel his body stiffen. “Damn it, Sebastian…” He takes a deep breath, fighting the emotion threatening to swallow him.

William steps closer, his face stricken, his eyes darting between the two of us. “What did the doctor say?”

“He… he lost a lot of blood, but at least his life isn’t in danger…” I stammer, swallowing hard to sound steady, as clear as possible. “But they said… it hit his spine. He’s in surgery now to see how bad the damage is…”

Tears burn my eyes, but I fight them back because I need to be strong right now. I have to be strong for him.

“He said he couldn’t feel his legs, Chris. Sebastian couldn’t feel his legs!”

William shuts his eyes, dragging a hand down his face as if he could wipe away reality. Christopher, on the other hand, seems frozen. His breath catches for far too long, and his eyes lose focus.

“Fuck…” William mutters in a raw whisper, thick with pain. He turns his back for a moment, leaning against the wall like he needs to hide from the truth. Then he slams his fist into the wall, making me flinch.

Christopher holds me tighter, as if promising me everything will be okay, but I feel his hand trembling now against my waist.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” William mutters, more to himself than anyone else. His voice is low, rough, cracked with emotions he can’t seem to keep buried. “Not to him… Damn it. How did this happen?”

“It’s my fault,” I admit in a whisper. “I insisted on going to the warehouse to meet Evelyn… I thought if the police were there, it would be enough…” A sob breaks from me, and I clutch Christopher’s suit harder, now damp and slippery with sweat and the blood still spreading. “He almost died because of me, Christopher. He might never walk again…”

Christopher takes a deep breath, as if forcing his body to keep going, stroking my hair with that tenderness he reserves only for me, a motion that slowly soothes my soul.

“He made a choice. The same one I would’ve made. The one I knew he’d make when I trusted you to him tonight.” His voice falters for a second before he pushes on. “You don’t understand, love. You’re the only thing that’s kept us standing for so long. All of us. You’ve saved us more times than you can count. If he stepped in front of that bullet, it’s because he knew your life was worth every drop of blood he spilled.”

“But none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t been selfish and stubborn. If I’d just stayed quiet and let you handle it, Sebastian wouldn’t be in that operating room right now.” A single tear slips down my cheek, slow and hot. “I wanted to see her defeated, and now Sebastian’s paying the price for it.”

“Hey.” Christopher slips a finger under my chin, gently lifting my face to his again. His brown eyes are full of sorrow. Undropped tears and a fear as deep as mine. But his voice, though soft and almost breaking, comes out steady: “You’re not to blame for what Evelyn chose to do. That’s on her, on her madness, her obsession—on the hate she carried.”

He holds my gaze, and for a second the world around us disappears… the hospital, William, even the cold, dried blood still burning on my hands. All that’s left are Christopher’s eyes and the truth shining through them, wounded, exhausted.

“This is exactly what she wanted, love. For you to feel guilty. For you to let her live inside you through grief, resentment, hate.” He brushes away the wet trail of my tear with his thumb. “Don’t give her that power. We did that for far too long.”

Yes, he’s right…

But if Sebastian is left with consequences, if he can’t… can’t walk again… won’t she have won anyway? One way or another, she’ll have dug her claws into our lives again… stained our present, our second chance, with her malice.

I swallow down the sob tearing at my throat, but it’s already there, hot and blinding in my eyes. My vision blurs, and even with Christopher holding me, looking at me as if he could keep me whole just with his gaze, I feel like I might fall apart any second.

“At least that bitch is dead,” William growls coldly, without a shred of pity or compassion. And I can’t blame him. She deserved none of it. But now, she’s a closed chapter. I don’t want to think about her another second. “Good riddance. I wish I’d been there to watch.”

A stupid laugh slips through my lips, and I cast him a mock scolding look. He’s leaning against the wall, his eyes just as glassy and worried as ours, but trying—as always—to break the tension.

“That’s so mean…” I murmur, fighting back the petty smile tugging at my lips.

Christopher shoots William a glance, a fleeting flash of reproach in his eyes before it melts into exhaustion. He doesn’t rebuke him—maybe because deep down he agrees, maybe because he doesn’t have the strength for another fight.

William shrugs, rubbing the knuckles of the hand he just slammed into the wall.
“Mean, but true.” His voice is low, heavy, though he tries to mask it with sarcasm. But his eyes tell another story. There’s no real satisfaction there, only anger and pain.

Christopher lets out a long, heavy sigh, caught between the agony and the relief of still having me alive in his arms. His hand slides to the back of my neck, holding me there, firm, like an anchor. I feel his warmth against me, but I also notice the tension that won’t leave his muscles. He’s trying to be strong for me, but I know inside he’s breaking.

That’s who he always is, isn’t it? Even after everything…

William looks away for a moment, rubbing a hand over his face, then fixes his gaze on the closed operating room doors.

The silence between us is broken only by the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor somewhere nearby and the distant shuffle of nurses. The whole place smells of disinfectant, alcohol, and blood—a mix that will never leave my memory.

Until finally, the surgery light switches off, and the doors swing open.