C H A P T E R 18. Day 4.

ZANE:

The edge of the woods blurred as I stumbled out onto the highway, my legs screaming for rest, but I didn't care. All I could think about was the weight in my arms—Alisa, too still, too pale. 

I glanced down at her face, hoping for some flicker of awareness, but there was nothing. Her chest wasn't moving. 

"No," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Not you. Not like this." 

I laid her down carefully on the cracked asphalt, my hands trembling as I tilted her head back. "Breathe, Alisa," I muttered, pressing my lips to hers, forcing air into her lungs. 

Her chest didn't rise. 

"Come on!" I shouted, my voice desperate as I started compressions, counting under my breath. 

I didn't stop. I couldn't. Not until her body jerked and she let out a choked gasp, her eyes fluttering open. Relief hit me so hard I almost fell back. 

"Zane…" she rasped, her voice barely audible. 

"I'm here," I said, leaning closer so she could see me. "I'm not going anywhere." 

The rumble of an engine snapped me out of the moment, and I turned to see a battered old van screech to a stop a few yards away. 

"Hey there!" A wiry, older man climbed out, wearing a straw hat and a look of concern. "Need help?" 

"She's sick," I said, my voice rough as I scooped Alisa up again. "She needs a doctor—now!" 

The man's expression turned grim as he opened the van door. "Get in. My wife's a nurse. She'll know what to do." 

I didn't wait for another word, climbing into the back of the van with Alisa cradled against me. 

The ride was rough, the van jolting over uneven dirt roads, but I barely noticed. All I could focus on was Alisa's shallow breathing and the way her hand twitched weakly against my chest. 

"She's gonna be fine," the man—Gus—said from the driver's seat. "My Maggie knows her stuff. She'll figure it out." 

"She has to," I muttered under my breath, tightening my grip on Alisa. 

---

When we reached Gus's farmhouse, his wife, Maggie, was already at the door. She was a no-nonsense woman with sharp eyes and a calm demeanor that made my chest loosen just a little. 

"Bring her in," she said briskly, leading me to a small, clean room. 

I laid Alisa down on the cot, stepping back just enough to let Maggie work while I hovered like a shadow. 

"What happened?" Maggie asked, checking Alisa's pulse and gently tilting her head to examine her. 

"She just…collapsed," I said, my voice strained. "She was fine, then she wasn't. She started throwing up, and then she just…" 

I trailed off, my fists clenching at my sides. 

Maggie frowned, her hands moving to the cut on Alisa's arm. Her sharp eyes narrowed. 

"How long has she had this wound?" 

I hesitated, guilt clawing at me. "A couple of days. We cleaned it as best we could, but…" 

Maggie's lips pressed into a thin line as she examined it more closely. "There's discoloration around the edges. This isn't just an infection. The blade that cut her—it was coated in something." 

"What do you mean, *something*?" I demanded, stepping closer. 

"Poison," Maggie said grimly. "Belladonna, if I had to guess. It's a slow-acting toxin. The symptoms match—nausea, weakness, shallow breathing. It's a miracle she's still alive." 

Poison. The word hit me like a punch to the gut. 

"That bastard…" I growled, my mind flashing to the man in the cave. The blade. The smug look on his face. 

"Can you help her?" I asked, my voice sharp. 

Maggie nodded, her expression serious. "I'll do what I can. But it'll take time, and she'll need you to stay by her side." 

I didn't need to be told twice. I knelt beside Alisa, taking her limp hand in mine. 

"I'm here," I whispered, my voice fierce. "You're not going anywhere, Alisa. Not without me." 

She didn't respond, but I didn't care. She was mine, and I wasn't losing her. Not now. Not ever. 

###

ALISA:

The world came back in pieces—fragments of sensation and sound. The scratchy texture of a blanket under my fingertips, the faint scent of antiseptic, the steady murmur of voices nearby. 

And then, a low, familiar growl: "She's waking up." 

Zane. 

My eyes fluttered open, and the first thing I saw was him. His face was shadowed in the dim light, but his sharp, possessive gaze was unmistakable. He looked exhausted—dark circles under his eyes, jaw tight—but there was a fierce intensity there that stole my breath. 

"Welcome back, trouble," he said, his voice low but steady. 

I tried to speak, but my throat was dry, and all that came out was a faint croak. 

"Water," Zane barked, and within seconds, a glass appeared in his hand. He lifted it to my lips, his touch surprisingly gentle as he helped me drink. 

The cool liquid eased the rawness in my throat, and I managed to rasp, "What…what happened?" 

"You scared the hell out of me, that's what happened," he snapped, his tone sharp, but his hand lingered on mine, grounding me. 

I blinked, trying to piece together the fragments of memory. The woods. The highway. Pain. 

"I remember…" My voice wavered. "I couldn't breathe." 

"You were poisoned," Zane said, his tone dark. "That bastard back in the cave—his blade was coated with belladonna. It's a miracle you're alive." 

Poisoned. The word sent a shiver down my spine. 

"How did you—" 

"I carried you," he interrupted, his jaw tightening. "I wasn't about to let you die out there, Alisa." 

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He wasn't just saying it to sound noble; he meant it. 

I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness hit me, and I slumped back against the pillow. Zane's hand shot out to steady me, his grip firm but careful. 

"Easy," he said, his voice softer now. "You're not out of the woods yet. Maggie—Gus's wife—she's been taking care of you." 

I glanced past him, noticing the older woman hovering in the doorway. Her sharp eyes softened as she met my gaze. 

"You've got a stubborn one here," she said, nodding toward Zane. "Didn't let anyone else near you for hours. Like a guard dog with a bone." 

Zane didn't even blink. "She's mine to protect." 

I stiffened at the possessive edge in his voice, my heart skipping for reasons I didn't want to analyze. 

"Your 'protection' nearly got me killed," I said, my tone sharper than intended. 

His jaw tightened, and he leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. "You're still breathing, aren't you? That's because of me." 

The tension crackled between us, thick and electric. 

Maggie cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable with our bickering. "She needs rest," she said firmly. "You can argue later." 

Zane's gaze didn't leave mine as he spoke. "She'll rest when I know she's safe." 

I wanted to argue, to push him away like I always did, but the truth settled heavily in my chest. As much as his possessiveness infuriated me, I couldn't deny the comfort it brought. 

He was here. He'd saved me. 

And despite everything, I felt safer with him than I ever had anywhere else.