I woke to the scent of antiseptic. It was the first thing I noticed—the sterile, almost clinical smell that filled my nostrils and made my head ache. My eyelids fluttered open, and the world around me came into focus, blurry at first, then clearer.
I was in a hospital room. A bed beneath me, soft but cold, and the rhythmic beep of a machine nearby. My heart thudded in my chest, a slow, deliberate pulse like it was trying to catch up to the panic still racing through my veins.
I was alive. I was safe.
But why wasn't Jason here?
The events rushed back. The gunshot. The cold gleam of metal. The terror in Jason's eyes. I had seen him move to protect me. Hadn't he? He had shoved me down, covered me, told me to go inside.
And then the shot. The darkness.
Where was he? Was he okay?
I tried to sit up but my body protested, aching, like every muscle had been stretched too thin. My head spun as I reached for the IV in my arm, the beeping of the heart monitor growing louder in my ears.
"Janica…"
I froze at the sound of my name. It was low, soft, familiar, and yet it sent a chill through my skin.
I turned my head slowly. There, standing in the doorway, was Jason.
His face was bruised. There was blood on his shirt—streaks of it dried along his collar, but there were no signs of injury. He was alive. But there was something in his eyes that made my breath catch.
He looked… different. The man who had shielded me just hours ago seemed somehow more haunted, like the man I had known was swallowed up by something darker.
"Jason," I whispered, my voice cracking as I tried to sit up again, this time ignoring the protest from my body. "You're alive."
"I'm not going anywhere," he replied, his voice gravelly, like it hadn't been used in hours. But there was a heaviness in his tone. A warning I didn't quite understand.
"Are you okay?" I asked, voice shaking. "What happened? Who were they?"
Jason stepped further into the room, his eyes never leaving mine. He seemed so much more tense now. His shoulders were tight, his jaw clenched like he was holding back something.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he moved to sit by my side, his hand hovering close to mine but not quite touching.
"I'll explain everything, Janica," he finally said, his voice low and strained. "But not here. Not now."
My chest tightened, and I could feel the weight of his words pressing down on me. Something wasn't right. Something was off. I could feel it in my bones.
He reached for my hand, but I pulled away instinctively. I wasn't ready to forgive him yet. Not after everything that had happened. Not after he left me in the dark for so long, after everything that led me here.
He let his hand drop, his eyes softening, as if he understood my reluctance.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "For everything. For what you've been dragged into. For… leaving."
I couldn't look at him. Not yet.
"I don't want your apologies," I said, my voice rising. "I want answers. I want to know why the hell I'm involved in this. Why they were after me. And why you think you can just walk back into my life like nothing happened."
He stood up abruptly, pacing a few steps across the room, running a hand through his hair. "It's not that simple, Janica. You're involved because—"
But he was cut off by a sudden noise—a loud bang from the hallway, followed by hurried footsteps.
Jason's eyes flickered toward the door, his body stiffening in an instant. He moved so fast I barely saw him shift, stepping between me and the door before I could even process the situation.
"Get down," he hissed, his voice urgent and deadly calm. "Now."
I didn't hesitate. My heart was in my throat as I slid off the bed, hitting the floor and huddling as close to the wall as possible. My body trembled, adrenaline pumping through my veins, my ears ringing with the sound of my own panicked breathing.
Jason's hand was on the doorknob in an instant, holding it steady as though he expected something—or someone—to burst through.
A moment passed. A tense, suffocating silence. I didn't dare breathe, but the silence seemed too heavy, too expectant.
And then the door handle turned.
Slowly. Too slowly.
Jason's gaze flicked toward me for a split second, his face hardening, a mix of determination and fear.
Before I could ask him what was happening, the door swung open with terrifying force.
The last thing I saw was the glint
of metal, the flash of movement, and then—
Bang.
The world went black.