Chapter 245

Ava’s POV

People say all is fair in love and war. But this wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair at all. I stood frozen, staring at the ever-growing pool of blood beneath my father and at Grayson—Grayson, who had just taken an arrow to the heart to save me. He had crashed to the ground, motionless.

Crystal let out a soft, breathy laugh, admiring the destruction she’d wrought. She tilted her head, her cold eyes scanning the scene before fixing on me. “This is way better,” she said, a cruel smile curving her lips before she vanished into the shadows.

Move, Ava. Move. I couldn’t. My breath was shallow, my limbs frozen, my heart pounding violently. My mind screamed at me to act, to help, but I could only stare.

My father, the man who’d raised me, who had shaped me, lay motionless with a blade embedded in his chest, his breathing shallow, if at all. He, who had always seemed untouchable, was now fading before my eyes.

And Grayson. Grayson, his body twisted, his clothes soaked in crimson, his face pale. His strong hands, which had always held me steady, now lay slack. An arrow protruded from his chest, as if the universe itself had cruelly ripped him from me.

Move, Ava!

A choked sob escaped as I stumbled forward, my legs weak. I dropped to my knees beside my father, my hands hovering uselessly over the wound. So much blood. The blade, dark and glistening, mocked me. My fingers trembled as I felt for a pulse. There. Faint. Weak.

Tears blurred my vision. “Dad?” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Please, please wake up.” Nothing. I cried out, clutching him, as if holding him could stop the life ebbing away.

Then—Grayson.

I crawled toward him, my fingers slipping in the blood-soaked ground. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. “Grayson!” My voice was hoarse, desperate. He didn’t move. I gripped his shirt, shaking him. “Grayson, wake up! Please!” Still nothing.

Pressing my hands to his chest, I felt a faint heartbeat. He was still alive. “Please don’t die,” I whispered, broken. “Please, just hold on.”

Footsteps. Someone shouted. Figures rushed toward us. My vision swam, my mind overwhelmed by terror. Then I saw her—my mother.

She froze. For the first time, my composed, controlled, detached mother looked lost. Her eyes darted between my father and Grayson, the color draining from her face. Then, she ran to my father.

I turned back to Grayson, gripping his face. “Please stay with me,” I begged, tears falling onto his skin. “Please. You’re not allowed to leave me.”

Elaine dropped beside me. “Ava—”

“Get help!” I snapped, panicked. She hesitated, then ran, shouting for help.

I rocked back, pressing against Grayson’s blood-soaked shirt. “Just hold on,” I murmured. I don’t know how long I stayed there.

Time had stopped. Only Grayson’s shallow breathing and my own heartbeat existed. I didn’t realize I was muttering until Elaine’s hands touched my shoulders. I shoved her away. “No! I need to stay—”

“Ava,” Elsine whispered, her voice shaking. “They need to take him. Let them help.”

Men were here, trying to move me. I fought them, my grip tightening on Grayson’s shirt. “No! I need—he needs—”

“Ava!” My mother’s voice cut through the haze.

She was kneeling beside my father, her fingers slick with his blood. For the first time, I saw tears. My mother was crying. We were doctors; we should be able to do something. But all I could do was cry.

They lifted Grayson, his blood dripping from their hands. My vision blurred. Everything felt distant, muffled. Grayson’s blood, my father’s blood—it was everywhere.

They lifted my father, his body sagging, the blade still buried in his chest. My mother just stared, kneeling there, her hands covered in his blood, her expression vacant. Always composed, always cold, always in control—she looked utterly lost.

A hand yanked me up. “We need to go.” The voice was sharp, urgent. Gunshots rang out. But it felt like I wasn’t even in the world anymore.

“Ava,” the voice snapped. “We have to leave, now.” I didn’t move. I was still watching them carry my father away.

“Go with them,” my mother’s voice cut through the chaos. I turned to her. She hadn’t moved. “Mom,” I choked out—the first time I’d called her that. Her throat worked. “Go.”

I was pulled away. I tried to fight, but the grip was unrelenting, dragging me through the dirt, past bodies. My legs barely worked. The gunfire sounded distant. I was pushed into a car. The door slammed shut. The car lurched forward.

I sat there, staring at my shaking hands, at the drying blood, at the blurring world outside—like I wasn’t even really there. So I closed my eyes.

When I opened them, the chaos was gone. There was a suffocating quiet. I was in a bed. The sheets felt too soft, too clean.

Then, I saw Isabella. Her face was tear-streaked, her lips trembling. I didn’t need to ask. We’d fought our way out of death’s grasp countless times, but this time… this time, it had taken something from us.

Isabella sucked in a sharp breath. Her voice was a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Lilian.”

Something inside me cracked. Tears fell, hot and unrelenting. Isabella’s arms wrapped around me. I knew in my heart… Grayson was gone.