Chapter 11

Killian’s POV

Feya’s body trembled lightly beneath my touch as I whispered her name again, a wave of raw emotion flooding through me. I had never been this terrified before. The world outside was crumbling, but here, in this sterile room, with the faint scent of antiseptic clinging to the air, everything felt like it had come to a screeching halt. My eyes never left her face. I couldn’t take my gaze off her, not even for a second.

“Feya?” I whispered again, my voice breaking, but there was no response. Her breathing remained shallow, a fragile rhythm that made my heart twist in pain.

I reached out, my fingers brushing her cheek, hoping for any sign that she would open her eyes. The seconds stretched, and the silence between us felt like an eternity. I couldn't breathe. Her skin was too cold, her pulse too faint, but her body had at least stopped convulsing, the worst of the immediate danger had passed—still, she was far from safe.

“Come on, Feya. You can fight this. You always fight,” I muttered under my breath, my own desperation growing with each breath I took. But nothing happened. No movement. No sign of recognition.

I couldn’t bear it. I was about to call for the nurse again when I noticed something—the faintest flutter of her eyelashes. My heart leaped in my chest.

“Feya?” I barely breathed the word, not daring to make a sound too loud. It felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on me, and if I moved, if I made a wrong move, it might all collapse.

Her eyes flickered again, this time just enough for me to catch the glimmer of recognition. She was coming back to me. She had to.

“Feya,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Please… just open your eyes. I can’t lose you.”

Her eyelids fluttered again, this time more deliberately. A soft groan escaped her lips, and I felt the tension in my chest loosen ever so slightly. I couldn’t remember ever feeling relief like this.

Slowly, her eyes cracked open, barely slits at first, her gaze unfocused. She blinked a few times, her pupils dilating as if struggling to comprehend where she was, what had happened. The confusion in her eyes tore at my heart.

“Feya,” I said again, my hand moving to her cheek, guiding her gaze toward me. “You’re alright. You’re safe now. You’re going to be okay.” My words felt like a promise. I didn’t know how much longer we had, but I would fight until the very end.

Her lips parted, but no words came out, just a weak, almost imperceptible breath.

“You’re alive,” I whispered, more to myself than her. “Thank God, you’re alive.”

But just as I felt the smallest surge of hope, everything shifted. The door to the clinic slammed open with a deafening crash, making me jump. My heart nearly stopped.

“Get down!” a voice shouted from the entrance.

I whipped my head around just as the nurse beside me screamed, her voice high with terror.

I didn’t have time to react.

A loud, deafening shot rang out.

The nurse crumpled to the ground beside Feya, a pool of blood rapidly spreading beneath her. She had barely fallen when the second shot rang out. My instincts kicked in.

“No!” I screamed, my body moving before I could even think, my hand clutching Feya’s, pulling her from the table, cradling her against me. I didn’t care if the explosions outside were shaking the ground beneath us. I didn’t care if I was surrounded by chaos. Feya was all that mattered.

The nurse’s body lay limp in the corner, her eyes wide and vacant. My heart skipped a beat at the sight, but I couldn’t mourn her. Not now. Not when Feya was still so fragile in my arms.

“Stay with me, Feya,” I hissed as I ducked down, trying to shield her from the gunfire, my movements frantic but purposeful. My hands were slick with sweat, but I refused to let go of her. She needed me.

I could hear the footsteps getting closer, the floorboards creaking as men approached. Their voices were muffled but chilling, and I knew that time was running out.

“Please,” I muttered desperately, my fingers pressing against Feya’s skin, willing her to stay with me. “You have to wake up. Please.”

Feya’s chest rose and fell, but it was uneven. Her eyes remained closed, and I cursed under my breath, shaking her gently.

“Feya, don’t you dare fall back into that darkness,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “I won’t let them take you. Not like this.”

Another shot rang out, and I flinched, my breath catching in my throat. They were getting closer. We had minutes, maybe seconds.

I took a deep breath, grounding myself, and then moved as fast as I could, carrying Feya out of the clinic. My legs burned with the effort, but I ignored the pain. My sole focus was on getting her to safety.

I burst through the clinic doors and into the corridor, the walls around us trembling from the blast outside. The building was shaking violently. I couldn’t hear anything except the pounding of my own heart and the distant roar of explosions.

“Stay with me, Feya,” I muttered again, my voice a harsh whisper. I wasn’t sure if she could hear me, but I couldn’t afford to stop. My footsteps echoed down the hallway as I raced toward the exit, my mind screaming for a way out.

As I rounded a corner, I saw the flicker of movement—a group of men in black, their weapons drawn, moving quickly toward us.

I froze for a split second, heart pounding in my chest. But then I remembered—there was no time to hesitate. I turned and ran in the opposite direction, carrying Feya like she weighed nothing, pushing through the pain and fear clawing at my chest.

The halls seemed to stretch on forever. My breath came in quick, shallow gasps. But I could hear them, closing in behind me. I was running out of time.

I skidded around another corner, my pulse hammering in my ears. There had to be a way out of here. There had to be a way to keep her safe.

I spotted a stairwell at the end of the hall, the door slightly ajar. It was our only chance.

With everything I had left, I sprinted toward it, pushing the door open with my shoulder, crashing into the stairwell. I didn’t pause to catch my breath, didn’t slow down even when my legs screamed in protest. Feya’s life was in my hands, and nothing—not even the shadowy figures closing in behind us—was going to stop me.

The stairs were a blur beneath my feet as I ran, my mind focused solely on reaching the ground floor. The door was ahead.

But just as I reached the final step, a voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

“Stop right there!”

I spun around, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The leader of the group was standing at the top of the stairs, his gun aimed directly at me. His eyes were cold, devoid of any empathy.

“You won’t make it out alive with her,” he sneered, his voice laced with malice.

My grip tightened on Feya, my heart racing. I couldn’t stop now. I wouldn’t.

With one last surge of strength, I moved faster than I ever thought possible, launching myself at the door. The moment I hit it, I pushed through, tumbling into the alleyway beyond. The rain was pouring down, but it didn’t matter. My eyes searched frantically for any sign of escape.

The sound of pursuit was growing louder. I could hear their footsteps behind me.

But just as I thought they were on top of us, a car screeched to a halt in front of me. The door swung open, and a figure with a familiar voice shouted, “Get in!”

Without thinking, I dove into the car, cradling Feya against me. The engine roared to life, and we sped off into the night, the city’s chaos fading behind us.

As the car careened through the streets, I pulled Feya closer to me, my heart still racing, but for the first time since all this began, I felt a sliver of hope.

She was alive. And as long as she was with me, I would fight to protect her, no matter the cost.

The car roared down the rain-slick streets, its tires screeching as I pushed it to its limits. The world outside was a blur—a combination of flashing lights, dark alleyways, and the occasional distant explosion that shook the night air. I didn’t dare look back. My only focus was on the woman in my arms, the fragile, broken woman who was barely clinging to consciousness.

Feya’s head rested against my chest, her body trembling, and her breathing shallow, each intake of air a battle. Her skin, still cold to the touch, sent a ripple of dread through me every time I brushed against it. Every now and then, she would shift slightly, but she wasn’t fully awake yet.

"Feya?" I whispered her name, watching her face closely for any sign that she was aware of where she was.

Her eyes fluttered open, though they were barely slits, and they immediately sought me, locking onto my face with a raw intensity that twisted my chest.

“Where… Where are we going, Killian?” Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, but it cut through the haze of adrenaline and fear that had clouded my mind since I picked her up from the clinic.

My hands tightened around the steering wheel, and I gritted my teeth, fighting the overwhelming emotion that threatened to break me. I couldn’t keep her safe, not forever, but I would do everything I could to get us away from this nightmare.

"Somewhere safe," I said, my voice calm, despite the storm inside me. I had to keep it together, for her. She needed me.

Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t respond at first, her eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to clear away the fog in her mind. Her breathing was still uneven, and her fingers twitched in my grip.

"Killian…" she whispered again, this time her voice strained, but there was a quiet urgency in her tone. “You can’t... run. You can’t just keep driving. We can’t outrun them forever.”

My heart skipped a beat. She knew. She knew what was at stake, what we were facing.

"We don't have a choice, Feya," I replied, my voice tightening as I forced my gaze back to the road. “Right now, the only thing that matters is getting you somewhere they can’t reach us.”

She shifted, and I could feel her try to sit up, but her body was too weak to respond. Her face contorted in pain as she struggled against her fatigue, but the effort was futile. She collapsed back against my chest with a soft, defeated sigh, her eyelids flickering.

“Killian…” Her voice cracked, and her hand—weak, but insistent—pressed against my arm, her touch sending a jolt of pain straight through me.

“Please, don’t…” she whispered. “Don’t go so fast.”

I winced at her words, the guilt hitting me like a punch to the gut. I had forgotten. I had been so caught up in keeping her alive, in getting away from the people who wanted her dead, that I had forgotten how vulnerable she still was. How weak she still was.

“I’m sorry, Feya,” I murmured, my voice hoarse, my chest tight with guilt. "I just—just need to get you out of here. I won't leave you."

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, but the words didn’t come. She swallowed instead, her throat working as she tried to summon enough strength to speak.

“Where... are we going?” she asked again, her voice barely audible, but there was an undeniable tremor in it. A fragility that broke me all over again.

I clenched my jaw, my grip on the steering wheel tightening, knuckles white. She deserved answers, but I couldn’t give her everything, not now.

“We’re going to find shelter. A place where you can rest. A place where we can regroup.” I stole a quick glance at her, my eyes scanning her fragile form for any signs of distress. Her face, pale and gaunt, was etched with confusion, fear, and exhaustion.

“And then?” she rasped, her voice barely a whisper.