Warm Hands, Cold Night

After a while, Nathan knocked lightly on the door, his voice soft but firm. “Elias, the ambulance is here.”

I felt Elias shift slightly, his hand still warm against my back, the other resting protectively against my arm. He lowered his head down to look at me, his voice low and steady. “Are you okay to move?”

I nodded weakly, my voice stuck in my throat. He didn’t wait for me to say anything more, carefully scooping me up as if I weighed nothing.

The motion made my head swim, and I pressed my face into his chest to steady myself, the steady thump of his heartbeat grounding me. He carried me back downstairs, his movements careful and deliberate. As we reached the bottom step, my eyes darted around the living room. It was empty.

William wasn’t there.

A knot formed in my stomach, the question swirling in my mind but refusing to be voiced. Was he really dead?