Chapter 24

THIRD PERSON'S POV 

The air was thick with smoke and the coppery scent of blood.

Angel's hands trembled as she wiped them on her jeans, but the red didn't come off. Chris's blood. Her blood. Samuel's—God, she didn't even know anymore. All she knew was that Samuel wasn't moving, and the broken remains of the warehouse around them wouldn't offer any more answers. 

Her gaze darted to the shadowed corner where Chris's body lay twisted. No time for guilt. No time to mourn. No time to feel anything but the pounding rhythm of Samuel's shallow breaths.

"Stay with me," she whispered, more to herself than to him. Her voice cracked, like something deep inside her had been split open and left exposed.

She knelt beside him, brushing damp hair from his bruised forehead. He was still breathing, but barely. His eyelids fluttered now and then but the light behind them was fading.

She needed to get him out of there. Now. She couldn't let him die, she promised 

Her eyes scanned the wreckage outside the warehouse. There—just past the crumpled metal gate and strewn bodies—was Chris's car. The same black Mercedes he'd brought her here in. It sat like a final curse, taunting her. But it was the only option if she wanted to save Sam's life 

She slipped an arm under Samuel's shoulders and lifted him...barely. He was heavy with dead weight and her muscles screamed from the earlier fight. Her ribs protested. Her left arm felt like it had been set on fire.

"Come on," she grunted through clenched teeth, dragging him across the cement. "You don't get to give up now. Not after everything."

The path to the car was uneven, broken, littered with shards of wood and glass. She didn't care. She kicked the door open with her foot and wrestled with the keys still in Chris's pocket. Her stomach turned when her hand brushed against the body, but she didn't stop.

The engine roared to life.

She laid Samuel across the back seat, wrapping her coat under his head as a makeshift pillow. "You're okay," she said, fingers trembling as she brushed his cheek. "You'll be okay. Just hold on."

The drive was chaos. Her bloodied fingers slipped on the steering wheel. Her vision kept swimming from the exhaustion and trauma thrumming through her veins, but she pushed past it. She had to. His life was in danger

"Hey," she called out to Samuel, glancing at him through the rearview mirror. "You still with me? Say something. Anything."

A groan. Barely audible.

"I'm gonna keep talking, okay? You just listen. Stay awake. We're almost there."

She told him stories—silly ones. Childhood memories. Her favorite color. Her favorite food. Her reasons for loving black. The first time she got her menstruation. Her first fight in the gang 

That time she got her head stuck in a bannister and blamed it on the neighbor's cat. Anything to keep the silence away and keep him talking.

And he responded, weakly. A grunt here. A twitch of his hand there.

But halfway through the journey, everything changed.

The grunts stopped. The hand stilled. When she looked back at him again, his eyes were closed and his lips parted just slightly.

"Samuel?" she whispered, panic rising. "Hey. Hey. Open your eyes. Say something. Please."

Nothing.

"No no no no—"

She slammed her foot on the gas.

The hospital's lights appeared like a beacon in the dark. She didn't wait for protocol—just screeched into the emergency bay, jumped out, and yanked open the back door.

"Help!" she screamed, voice cracking. "Someone—he's not breathing right! Please, I need help!"

A nurse sprinted out with a wheelchair, followed by two more staff with a gurney. Angel helped them lift Samuel's limp form, her own legs giving way once he was no longer in her grasp.

"What happened?" the nurse asked as they wheeled him inside.

"I—I don't know! He just stopped responding in the car. He was talking to me. And then he wasn't. He—he was—" Her words tangled into sobs.

"Ma'am, are you injured?" another nurse reached for her, but Angel pulled back, eyes glued to the double doors Samuel disappeared through.

"I'm fine! Just—just help him! Please…"

The fluorescent lights above blurred into white streaks as Angel stumbled backward, hand still outstretched toward the emergency doors Samuel had disappeared through.

"Ma'am, please," a nurse called out, but her voice was muffled, like it came through a tunnel.

She turned to face the sound, but her legs buckled. She hit the ground hard, a sharp jolt rattling through her spine and then nothing.

Darkness 

SOME HOURS LATER 

The world returned slowly, a mess of beeping monitors and sterile air.

Angel blinked against the overhead light, her throat dry, her body stiff. For a long second, she didn't know where she was. Her arms felt like lead. A plastic tube rested in her hand, connected to an IV stand dripping clear fluid into her veins.

She sat up too fast, her heart racing. "Samuel…"

A nurse nearby startled. "Hey, hey, don't try to get up yet."

"Where is he?" Angel croaked, clutching the blanket. "The guy I came in with—Samuel. He was unconscious, they took him inside—"

"He's stable," the nurse said gently, placing a hand on Angel's shoulder. "He's in recovery. Got a couple of cracked ribs, concussion and some bruising. But he's alive."

The breath she'd been holding finally escaped.

"Can I see him?" Her voice cracked with desperation. Her eyes pleading

The nurse hesitated. "Just for a few minutes. He's sleeping."

Angel nodded, already pulling the blanket aside.

______

The room was dim, lit only by a soft wall light and the steady pulse of the monitor beside Samuel's bed.

He looked pale but the rise and fall of his chest was steady. Clean bandages covered the side of his forehead, and there was a small oxygen tube under his nose. He looked so peaceful that it almost hurt to see.

Angel stood at the doorway, afraid to go closer.

"I got you out," she whispered. "I promised I would."

She walked over and carefully took his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over his fingers. They were cold. She wished they'd twitch or squeeze back.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I should've gotten you out sooner."

She stayed like that for a minute longer, letting the silence wrap around them.

Then a quiet knock came at the door.

She turned to see the nurse again, her eyes were kind but this time, something else lingered there. Behind her stood two men in uniform. Police.

"They want to talk to you," the nurse said gently. "You don't have to answer anything if you're not ready but... they have questions."

Angel looked back at Samuel one last time.

Then she let go of his hand and walked out of the ward.

_______

The room they took her to wasn't an interrogation room but it might as well have been. It smelled like stale coffee and disinfectant. One of the officers was older, his gray hair neatly combed. The other was younger, taking notes.

They offered her water but she refused to drink 

"I'm Detective Rowe," the older one said. "This is Officer Lacey. We just want to get a sense of what happened tonight. You came into the ER with an unconscious male, both of you showing signs of assault and trauma. The nurses said you collapsed immediately after. Can you tell us what happened?"

Angel clenched her jaw. "We were taken. Kidnapped."

Rowe leaned forward. "By who?"

"I don't know their names. I was brought to this warehouse by someone I knew... someone I thought I could trust." She responded coldly 

"And Samuel?"

"He was already there. When I got there, he was barely conscious. They'd already beaten him."

Rowe frowned. "You said they. How many people were involved?"

Angel hesitated, then shrugged. "At least four. Maybe more. It was dark. I didn't see all their faces."

"And how did you escape?" Officer Lacey asked.

"They... started fighting amongst themselves. I don't know what happened exactly. Things fell apart between them. I saw an opening, and I got Samuel out."

"How did you manage that?" Rowe asked. "The hospital report says your knuckles were bruised, your ribs possibly fractured. You're not exactly in top shape."

Angel looked him straight in the eye. "I wasn't going to leave him there. He's my friend, the least I can do is to be responsible for him".

There was a beat of silence. The officers exchanged a glance.

"You didn't call 911," Lacey said carefully. "You drove a car registered to a man named Christopher Dalton. His body was found in the warehouse... shot twice and severely beaten."

Angel's heart nearly stopped. They found the bodies.

"I didn't shoot anyone and I know nothing about it" she said quietly. "Heck, I didn't even have a gun."

"That doesn't mean you weren't involved."

"I told you the truth," she said, voice low. "I found Samuel. I got both us out."

Rowe studied her for a long time. "Do you know who killed the others?"

She looked away. "No."

Another pause. Then Rowe sighed, closing his notebook.

"For now, we're filing this as a case of abduction and self-defense. But we're going to need you to come down to the station later for a formal statement. This isn't over yet. Miss Angel ".

Angel nodded, though her stomach turned.

Nothing ever was.