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He swerved the opposite direction and spotted men in the distance. He ran full out toward them, shouting, “Where is she?”
But even as he asked, he saw Lillian lying on the ground, surrounded by an emergency crew. The men lifted her stiff body onto a stretcher.
He took in the scene in a single glance and worked to stay calm. Lillian didn’t need him freaking out right now.
Her eyes were closed, her face pale and drawn. The medical crew had strapped a mask on her face, he presumed to feed her oxygen, and had started an IV. Two men dressed in blue medical scrubs were on the floor next to her, their hands cuffed behind their backs, while the police stood over them. Several plainclothes men, probably Brian’s gang, hovered nearby.
He caught up to the stretcher and crouched by Lillian’s side, holding her cold hands in his, his heart a jackhammer in his chest. What was it she’d called him…a burner? If he could transfer his energy to her now, he’d gladly do it. If he only knew how.
“Lillian, it’s me, Tristan. I’m here now.”
“We need to get her inside,” one of the paramedics said. “She has a pulse, but it’s weak.”
“Let’s move, then,” Tristan said.
He continued to walk beside Lillian, while the paramedics rolled the stretcher onto the elevator and up to the main floor.
A fire raged, burning Lillian from inside out. Sweat matted the hair against her neck.Water.What she would do for a tall glass of cold water.
“Hang on, Lillian, hang on.”
“Tristan?” She tried to speak but couldn’t through dry, cracked lips. There was so much she wanted to tell him. Now it was too late.
Death comes to all of us eventually.
“Mom?” Her mother had warned her what would happen. Why hadn’t she listened? She wasn’t ready to die.
It’s not your job to heal everyone, Lillian.
“Mom, is that you?”
A cool hand touched her forehead, offering some relief. The scent of roses filled the air.
“Please, stay with me, Mom. Don’t leave. I’m afraid.”
Her mother cast Lillian an understanding smile.
“Would you sing to me, Mom?” Lillian asked. “Like you used to?”
Her mother nodded and hummed a melody, familiar and comforting and haunting at the same time.
“You love him, don’t you?” She had reached the end of the song.
Lillian blinked. “Love, who?” She had been half-listening, drifting in the dreamy lullaby. How could her mother possibly know about Tristan? She’d died long before they could be introduced. Lillian’s mind stuttered over the thought.
“Oh, I think you know who.”
Dead.Her mother was dead. This was a dream. Still, she wanted it to go on and on and on. “Yes. But there’s no hope for us.”
“Oh, darling, there’s always hope.”
Lillian’s breath hitched. She’d spent the past two years on autopilot, not really living—researching Kinetica, afraid of every stranger, jumping at every sound, never daring to want anything for herself.
“Kinetica still wants me. I told Tristan lies and deliberately hurt him, so he wouldn’t follow me. He won’t forgive me. He asked me to trust him, but I didn’t. I hurt him terribly—I could see it in his eyes.”
Her mother smoothed the hair from Lillian’s forehead. “My Lily, always so steadfast and loyal. Always so protective of those you love. Always ready to sacrifice your own happiness. The time has come to see if you’re strong enough to grab happiness for yourself.”
“What are you saying, Mom?”
