Miguel's POV
The room stood frozen, the only sound the faint hum of the monitors. Diego's black, lifeless eyes were still fixed on us, but the voice that came from him wasn't his. "You should have let me die." His voice horses and deeper than his usual voice is. The entire atmosphere shifted instantly, thickening with a cold dread that made the air feel heavier with every passing second.
Maria's hands trembled as she pressed her palms to his face, searching his expression for something—anything—that felt like her son. "Diego," she whispered, voice breaking. "Please... fight this. Stay with us." She said with a calm and trembling tone as she attempts to move closer to him, her breath shaking as if her entire soul hung on his next sound.
His body tensed, and I felt an icy dread settle in my chest. "Mom, step back," I warned, my fingers inching toward my sidearm, the weight of the weapon suddenly feeling both useless and necessary at the same time.
