Pain was the first thing that registered—a sharp, throbbing agony radiating from my chest and shoulder, like fire licking at my insides. My eyelids fluttered open, the world swimming in a haze of confusion and dim light. Where was I? The bus... the crash... Trent's gun barking in the confined space, bullets tearing through flesh. I'd felt the impact, the hot bloom of blood, the darkness pulling me under. I thought that was it—the end. Dead. But if I was dead, why did everything hurt so damn much?
I tried to sit up, a gasp escaping my lips as the pain spiked, white-hot and unrelenting. My hand instinctively clutched at my bandaged chest, fingers brushing rough gauze soaked with something sticky. The room came into focus slowly—familiar walls, the sparse setup of our new apartment. The mattress beneath me, the TV in the corner, snow still drifting lazily outside the window. How? I remembered Miko's scream, her body jerking as shots rang out, blood pooling. Miko...
"Miko?" My voice was a ragged croak, barely audible. Panic surged through me, overriding the pain. I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to pull me back down.
"Whoa, easy there, handsome." A voice cut through the fog—familiar, teasing, but laced with worry. Sylvia. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor nearby, her fox tail curled around her knees, amber eyes watching me intently. She unfolded herself gracefully, moving to my side with that hybrid agility, her hand gentle on my uninjured shoulder. "You're not dead, if that's what you're thinking. Though you came damn close."
I blinked at her, the confusion deepening. "Sylvia? What... what happened? The bus, Trent—he shot us. Miko, where's Miko?" The words tumbled out, my heart hammering as memories flooded back: the rollover, the screams, Trent's cold execution of witnesses.
Sylvia sighed, her ears flicking back slightly. "Take it slow. You're still a mess—bullet grazed your lung, another in the shoulder. We patched you up best we could. As for what happened... Elena saw Trent buying that gun earlier. Sketchy as hell, right? He drove off in a hurry, and we figured it wasn't good. Elena and I decided to tail your bus, make sure you got to Broken Bow safe. Good thing we did—we heard the crash from a ways back, pulled up just as Trent was climbing out. He didn't see us; too busy fleeing the scene. We got you and Miko out before the cops showed. The rest... it's a massacre. On the news—'tragic accident turns deadly shooting.' They're blaming some random road rage, but we know better."
My head spun, piecing it together. "The others... the passengers?"
Her expression darkened, tail stilling. "Most didn't make it. Trent made sure of that. Driver, witnesses—gone. You're lucky we were there."
I nodded weakly, the horror settling in my gut like lead. But Miko... "Where is she? Is she—?"
"Alive," Sylvia cut in quickly, her voice steadying me. "But she's in rough shape. Worse than you—bullet to the chest, another in the leg. We couldn't risk a hospital; with hybrids in the crosshairs, Trent or his kind might finish the job. She's at our old apartment with Elena. Better first aid kit there, and it's quieter. Elena's watching her, keeping her stable. She'll pull through—she's tough."
Relief washed over me, mingled with a fresh wave of pain as I shifted. I tried to stand anyway, but Sylvia pushed me back down gently. "Nope. Stay on that mattress for now. Doctor's orders—or, well, my orders. You've lost blood; pushing it could reopen everything."
I grumbled but sank back, the exhaustion hitting like a wall. "Fine. But Kira? What happened to her? She was meeting us with the passport..."
Sylvia's tail flicked reassuringly. "She's okay. Holed up in Broken Bow at some motel, waiting. Passport's with her—forged and ready for Miko. We called her after pulling you out; she's laying low till we signal."
At least that part was intact. I leaned back against the wall, happy—relieved—that Kira was safe, that Miko was fighting. But the plan... it couldn't wait. "The plan's still on," I said, my voice firmer than I felt. "Canada, then Europe. America's poison—we get out before it kills us."
Sylvia tilted her head, her fox ears perking skeptically. "You sure? After this? Europe's a long shot—passports, borders, boats. And Miko's hurt bad; traveling now..."
"I know," I admitted, the knot of fear tightening. "But staying here's suicide. Trent's out there, and who knows who else. We heal up quick as we can, meet Kira, cross to Canada. Rumors say boats from the lakes to Europe—safe havens where hybrids aren't hunted. Or Mexico if north's blocked. But we go."
She sighed, her tail curling thoughtfully. "Skeptical as hell, but... I get it. Can't really stop you two. Just... be careful. Elena and I'll hold down here, watch your backs."
We talked a bit more—plans, contingencies—before she left to check on Miko. Alone, the apartment felt emptier, the snow outside a mocking veil over the violence lurking beneath. But we had a path. Now, to survive long enough to take it.