Murder Attempt. Lila pov

I stayed by Fiona's bed, gripping her limp hand as though my touch alone could pull her back. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors was the only sign of life in the sterile hospital room, aside from the slow, mechanical rise and fall of her chest, dictated by the respirator. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils, mixing with the cold, artificial air of the ward.

Her face, usually so full of fire and mischief, was now pale—eerily serene, as though she had surrendered to the weight of everything that had happened. My heart clenched with guilt. She had made her choices, but had I forced her hand? Had I driven her to this fate?

The door creaked open, and Leo stepped in, his presence steady and reassuring. His dark eyes softened when they landed on me.

"You need to get some rest," he said gently, placing a warm hand on my shoulder.