The world spun. My back slammed against the cold, hard ground, pain shooting up my ankle like a blade.
By the time I dragged myself to the window, he was already gone—racing downstairs like a madman.
Through the glass, I saw him scoop up Lorraine's blood-soaked body, his face twisted in panic. He jumped into his SUV, the engine roaring to life before the car tore away into the night.
He didn't even glance back at me.
I sank onto the freezing marble floor, staring in the direction he'd gone, my chest hollow, my soul utterly still.
Only silence remained.
...
After a long while, I managed to stand. Limping, I made my way home.
Later that night, Renald came back.
He stormed toward me, grabbed my wrist so tightly I thought he'd crush the bones.
"Lorraine is suffering massive internal bleeding—your blood type is the only one that matches hers!"
My vision went black. My pulse roared in my ears.
"No! Renald, are you insane? Why should I save her?!"
But his grip only tightened, desperation flashing in his eyes.