solana

Roman

It's been two days since she was shot.

Two days since I watched her fall, blood spilling out of her like it was nothing, like it didn't matter. I can still hear the screams, feel the panic clawing at me like it was yesterday. My heart pounds against my ribs, a constant reminder of the emptiness inside me since she's been gone, lying in that damn bed, unconscious and slipping away from me with every passing hour.

I walk into the hospital room quietly, not wanting to disturb the sterile silence that hangs in the air. Solana's there, hooked up to more machines than I care to count. It's suffocating—the beeping of the monitors, the scent of antiseptic, the coldness of the room. And her, so still. So fragile. It's like I'm not even sure she's still in there, like I'm waiting for something—anything—that will show me she's still with me.

Jade's sitting by the window, her face red from crying, her eyes swollen. She looks up when she hears the door open. For a moment, I think she's going to say something, but then she doesn't. She stands up, wipes her eyes, and nods to me as if she's known I'd be here. She doesn't need to say anything.

"I'm gonna head out," she says quietly, glancing at Solana one last time before turning to me. Her voice is hoarse, and I can hear the weight of the grief in it. "Hope you're okay."

I don't say anything. Only send her a soft smile. The least I could do. The words are stuck in my throat so I don't speak.

She walks past me, her hand brushing mine as she goes. She doesn't try to comfort me, and I don't want her to. I just want to be here with Solana.

When the door clicks shut behind her, the room feels even more suffocating. I move to the chair beside the bed, my fingers twitching with the need to reach out and touch her, but I stop myself. I'm scared. Scared that if I touch her, she'll disappear, or worse—never wake up.

I take a deep breath and finally let my hand rest on hers. Her skin is cold, like the rest of her. The warmth is gone, and I'm not sure if I can ever bring it back.

I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I don't know how to fix this. How to fix her.

"Solana," I whisper, my voice barely a rasp. "It's me. It's Roman."

I want to shake her, scream at her to wake up, but I don't. I don't think I have it in me to hurt her more. "I'm sorry. I don't know how this happened. I never should've let this happen. I should've protected you. I should've—"

I cut myself off. I don't need to go down that road. Not now. Not here.

"I'm trying to fix this, Solana," I say, my voice steadying. "I'm gonna find him. I'm gonna make sure James pays. You won't have to suffer because of him. You won't have to suffer anymore. I'll make sure of it."

I lean closer, my lips brushing against her forehead as I whisper the promise.

"I'm doing this for you. I'm doing this for us."

I sit there for what feels like an eternity, my mind racing with thoughts I can't control. Everyone keeps reaching out, trying to pull me back from the edge. My father, Moreno, Mateo—everyone. They all want me to stop, to breathe, to let it go. But I can't. Not until I know she's safe. Not until I make sure she never has to suffer again.

The truth is, they're not wrong. They're all just trying to help me, to bring me back to the man I used to be. But the man I used to be is dead. That man didn't watch the woman he loved get shot in front of him. That man didn't feel the weight of her life slipping through his fingers.

I don't know how to do this without her. How to survive in a world where she's not with me. I know they want me to heal. They want me to mourn and move on. But I don't know if I can.