Laura yanked Hillary up again—

Only this time, there was no gasping.

No desperate coughs .

No movement .

Hillary's body was limp in her grasp .

Her head lolled forward, her skin unnervingly pale, her lips slightly parted—

And she wasn't breathing.

Laura's stomach clenched.

She let go, and Hillary crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll.

No movement.

No pulse.

No.

No, no, no, no.

"Shit."

Laura dropped to her knees, shoving Hillary onto her back.

Her chest wasn't rising.

She wasn't even twitching.

Laura pressed two fingers against her neck—nothing.

A cold, unfamiliar sensation curled in her gut.

She pressed harder. Come on, come on—

Still nothing.

A spark of panic ignited in her ribs, clawing at her throat.

Hillary wasn't supposed to die...

Laura didn't do murder. That was messy. That got people caught.

This wasn't the plan.

She muttered a curse, tilting Hillary's head back.

Laura had never done CPR before.

Never needed to.

She wasn't that kind of criminal.

But she knew enough.

She pressed her hands over Hillary's chest and started pushing.

"Breathe, dammit."

One, two, three, four—

Still nothing.

Laura growled under her breath, pinching Hillary's nose shut and forcing a breath into her mouth.

Another round of compressions.

Another breath.

Laura's own heartbeat was hammering in her skull.

If she was dead—

No.

Another push.

Then—

Hillary coughed violently, a harsh, wet sound as water spilled from her lips, her body jerking as she sucked in a desperate breath.

Laura exhaled sharply, relief flooding through her—followed immediately by frustration.

"God, you're dramatic," she muttered.

Hillary barely moved, barely reacted, her body weak and shaking, her breaths coming in uneven gasps.

Pathetic.

Laura sighed, rolling her eyes as she grabbed Hillary's arm and pulled her out of the locker room.

*****

The night air was brutally cold, sinking its teeth into Hillary's soaked clothes as Laura dragged her across the empty streets.

Hillary barely stirred. She was shivering violently, her body too weak to resist, her head lolling against Laura's side as she pulled her through the alleyways.

The city stretched out around them, dimly lit streetlights casting long, twisting shadows.

Laura's breath came in short bursts, visible in the freezing air.

"Damn, you're heavy," she muttered, adjusting her grip.

She needed to get further from the swim center. Somewhere no one would immediately connect back to her.

Somewhere Hillary wouldn't be found too quickly.

Her boots crunched over the pavement, the first delicate snowflakes drifting down from the sky.

Not enough to cover their tracks. Not yet.

But soon.

Laura pressed forward, pulling Hillary deeper into the maze of the city. The buildings here were older, rundown, forgotten, just behind the eastern arbour.

Good enough.

By the time she reached a secluded alley, her muscles were aching from the effort.

She let Hillary drop onto the frozen ground.

No reaction.

Good.

Laura crouched beside her, watching her shallow, uneven breaths.

Her face was paler than before, lips slightly blue. Her fingers trembled, barely curled inwards.

The snow was beginning to stick, dusting the pavement in a thick, icy layer.

The drug had worked perfectly—Hillary wouldn't remember a thing when she woke up. But just to be sure, Laura had to make this look like something else entirely.

First, she rifled through Hillary's pockets, slipping out her phone and cash. The phone hit the ground with a sharp crack as Laura stomped on it, ensuring no emergency calls or tracking. She kept her money.

Then, then she dumped the contents of Hillary's bag onto the damp floor, kicking pens and books aside before stomping on a notebook. She also tore a few pages, fluttering into the mess.

She then reached down and ripped part of Hillary's jacket sleeve, making it look like she had fought back. With a flick of her wrist, she ground dirt into the fabric. Satisfied, she ran a hand through Hillary's hair, tangling it up, and smudged a streak of dirt across her face. If anyone found her there, they'd no doubt assume one thing and one thing alone.

A mugging.

A random, unfortunate event.

Not this.

She glanced at Hillary one last time.

Snowflakes landed on her cheeks, melting instantly against her too-cold skin.

"Sucks to be you," she muttered.

Then, without another glance back, she turned and disappeared into the night.

*****

Cold.

Raw, unbearable cold. That was the first thing Hillary noticed.

Her body ached. A deep, bone-deep exhaustion weighed her down, making it hard to even think. She shivered violently, her clothes damp and clinging to her skin, but her mind was even foggier. Her limbs felt foreign—numb, stiff, barely responsive.

She tried moving.

Pain flared up instantly. Her muscles screamed in protest, her fingers barely twitching. Her breath came out in short, ragged gasps, like her lungs weren't working properly. A sharp pressure gripped her chest, making every inhale a struggle.

She forced her eyes open, blinking sluggishly against the dim glow of the streetlights. Nothing looked familiar. The buildings, the pavement, the cold emptiness of the alley—none of it made sense.

Her stomach twisted. What happened?

Her thoughts were sluggish, refusing to form properly. The last thing she remembered—

Swim practice.

She was at swim practice.

But now—

She tried to push herself up, but her arms collapsed beneath her. Her hands burned. She looked down and saw them blotched red, swollen.

A flicker of realization cut through the haze. Cold urticaria.

The cold was killing her.

Her throat was tight. Her breathing, shallow and erratic. A distant part of her registered that she was hyperventilating, but she couldn't stop. Her lungs fought for air, her chest constricting more and more.

She had to get her epipen. Now.

Fumbling through her ruined belongings, she found it, her fingers barely cooperating as she forced the cap off the epipen and stabbed it into her thigh.

Relief was almost instant—but not enough.

The burning in her lungs didn't fade completely. The shaking in her hands didn't stop. She still felt wrong.

Her body was shutting down, inch by inch.

But she had to move. Had to get home.

She braced herself and tried standing again. Her legs gave out immediately, sending her crashing onto her side. Pain shot through her knees and elbows, but she barely registered it.

Her vision blurred.

Her limbs felt leaden.

She was so, so cold.

She forced herself up again, this time stumbling forward on unsteady legs. Every step felt heavier, her body dragging her down, exhaustion slowing her thoughts. Her ears were ringing. The edges of her vision pulsed black.

She barely registered the sound of hurried footsteps before a figure appeared in front of her.

---

Kai barely registered the cold seeping through his coat or the snow dusting his hair as he glanced at his phone again.

Hillary's dot had just started moving a few minutes ago. At least she was moving. But her movement was too slow. Too uneven. She'd barely made it out of the alley since he left home.

And then—

He skidded to a stop.

She was there.

Right in front of him.

Kai had half a wish that she hadn't been.

That somehow she'd lost her bracelet and a stray dog had dragged it here or something.

Because the reality was so much worse.

Hillary stood in front of him— barely standing at all.

Her body was trembling violently, racked with shivers so strong they almost looked like convulsions. Her breath came in rapid, uneven gasps, each one sounding more desperate than the last. Her lips were pale—no, blue. Her hands—shaking so badly it was painful to watch—were blotched an angry red, swollen at the knuckles, curled in stiff, unresponsive motions.

She swayed dangerously, as if her own body was betraying her.

Something was wrong.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

A sick feeling twisted in his stomach.

"Hillary." His voice came out sharper than he intended. Urgent. Demanding. "What the hell happened?"

Her lips parted—

But no words came.

Just a shaky inhale—then nothing.

Kai stepped forward—

She flinched.

His chest went tight.

Not at her. At whatever had done this. At whoever had left her like this. At the fact that she was standing in front of him, completely wrecked, and he didn't know why.

He forced the anger down. He couldn't afford it right now.

Slower, more careful, he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

She barely reacted.

Despite the fact that she must have been freezing, she barely noticed.

His throat tightened.

She was too far gone.

"Hillary." He lowered his voice, slightly pleading. "Talk to me."

It took her a moment—like her brain was fighting through static. Then, finally, she whispered, "I... I just woke up here."

Her voice was thin. Weak.

"My things were scattered... My cash was gone... My phone's broken..." A pause, then a soft, distant admission—"I think I was mugged."

She sounded so small.

Kai exhaled slowly, forcing his hands into fists so they wouldn't shake. Mugging. That made sense. Knock her out, take her stuff, leave her in the cold. But—

No.

Something felt off.

He ignored it. Focused on the now.

"You're freezing," he said, voice edged with concern. "How long have you been out?"

Hillary slightly shook her head. The motion was weak. Almost imperceptible. "Don't know... I only woke up half an hour ago."

Her breathing hitched. Too fast. Too shallow.

Kai frowned. "You're struggling to breathe."

Another slow blink, like she was trying to keep up. "Yeah."

"Why?"

She swallowed. Her fingers twitched like she was trying to rub warmth into them, but they were too red. Too swollen.

Kai's unease deepened.

Then she whispered— "Cold urticaria."

Kai went rigid.

"What?"

"Ice allergy," she murmured. Each word was a battle. "Exposure to snow, ice... messes with my lungs, burns my hands." A weak inhale. "It's... not very serious now... I used my epipen earlier. It's... just cold now."

Bullshit.

Kai knew for a fact that hypothermia set in faster for people with an allergic reaction to snow.

She was shaking worse. Breathing worse.

Her body was shutting down.

He clenched his jaw. Focus.

"Let's get you home," he said, steady, firm. "You need warmth."

She barely reacted.

Just stood there, shivering violently, blinking too slow.

Then—

Her legs buckled.

Kai lunged forward, catching her just in time.

And then she broke.

A choked sob tore from her throat—weak, helpless. Her hands curled into his shirt, barely gripping, barely holding on. Her entire frame trembled out of control.

Kai stilled.

Then, slowly, his arms tightened around her.

He wasn't good at this. Not at comfort. Not at emotions.

But he wasn't letting go.

His grip tightened. "I've got you," he muttered, voice rough, but steady. "You're safe."

Hillary didn't answer.

Just pressed her face against his chest, shaking, crying, struggling to breathe.

*****

Kai tightened his hold on Hillary as he hurried across the street.

She lost consciousness soon after her breakdown. Still breathing, but faintly. He could feel the tremors wracking her frame, the way her fingers twitched against his jacket like she was barely holding on.

She needed warmth now.

Then—footsteps.

Heavy, fast. Someone running.

Kai's head snapped up just in time to see a huge mastiff charging toward them.

His instincts screamed at him to move, to shield Hillary, to fight—but the dog skidded to a halt just short of him, huffing out heavy breaths into the cold air.

And right behind it—

A man.

Tall, broad, dark hair falling into sharp eyes that flickered over the scene with far too much awareness.

Kai's grip on Hillary turned vice-like.

He knew the guy.

Not personally, but by reputation.

Dev.

An antique smuggler. Hung out at the eastern harbor, slipped past authorities like a ghost. Smart, elusive, untouchable. His presence here—alone, in the dead of night—made too much sense.

Kai didn't care.

All that mattered was Hillary.

And this guy was not getting anywhere near her.

*****

Dev sat by the sea, cigarette in hand, when Coco came behind him, barking insistently.

He frowned. It wasn't like his mastiff to come back to him this soon when he let her roam. She was independent, had her own routine. But now, she was tugging at his jeans, barking like she'd found something she needed him to see. Urgently.

"Whoa, girl. Everything alright?" he asked, flicking ash off the cigarette.

Coco didn't stop. She pulled harder at his jeans, nearly unbalancing him.

Dev sighed. "I swear, if this is one of your 'I found a pretty rat' moments, I'm chucking you straight into the ocean, understood?"

He didn't really mean it, and his girl knew. She didn't even spare him a glance at the threat, just yanked him forward with renewed urgency.

That got his attention.

Coco was smart. She didn't overreact to nothing.

He let her lead him into an alley immediately behind the harbor, and the second he saw what was there, he had half a mind to wish it had been a dead rat.

Instead, he found Kai Hiwatari, famously known as Red Eye amongst the underground circles, standing in the dim light, jacket off, holding a girl in his arms like the world was ending.

Dev stopped short.

His stomach twisted.

Because even before he saw her face, he knew.

Hillary.

She was limp in Kai's arms, her breathing too shallow, skin too pale, shivering even through the thick jacket wrapped around her.

Something had happened.

And whatever it was, it had sent Kai straight into attack mode.

"Back off," Kai snapped, his stance shifting—ready to fight, even while holding her.

Protective.

Dev didn't take another step. Just held up a hand, non-threatening.

"She okay?" he asked, voice even. Kai's laugh was sharp and humorless. "Yeah, splendid!"

Dev barely held back a sigh. Yeah. Thought so.

"My cabin's nearby," Dev offered smoothly. "You can bring her there."

The temperature between them dropped further.

Kai's grip on Hillary tightened, eyes narrowing like Dev had just suggested tossing her into the sea.

"I'm not taking her anywhere with you."

Predictable.

"I know her," Dev said, keeping his tone neutral.

Kai's response was instant—sharp, laced with venom. "That's convinient," he said, voice drenched in ice. "Really. But here's the thing—I don't trust you. And I'm not handing her over to some low-level smuggler just because he says so."

Ah. There it was.

Dev didn't react. Didn't bristle, didn't argue. He had expected as much.

"You're wasting time," he said instead.

"And you're wasting breath." Kai's glare sharpened. "I don't need you."

Dev glanced at Hillary—at the way her fingers kept twitching, at how she continued to shiver uncontrollably despite the warm coat, at the way her breaths came too fast, then too slow.

"Maybe not." He met Kai's glare head-on. "But she does."

Jason's words. The words given to them both as a sign of trust. That hit home.

Kai went still.

His hold on her tightened.

Kai's temper cracked wide open, rage coiling around him like a storm, promising blood if Dev said one more wrong word.

Dev didn't flinch.

Didn't push.

Just watched as Kai warred with himself.

He didn't want to do this. Didn't want to play his last wild card. Didn't want to put months of his life's work at risk by exposing himself, but Hillary needed him.

Even if he hated her by definition, he couldn't just turn his back on her.

Then—

"The last star shines brightest before dawn." he whispered.

The reaction was instant.

Kai froze.

His eyes sharpened in disbelief, flickering too fast, mind moving at a thousand miles per second.

Dev didn't move. Didn't say anything else.

He just waited.

Because this wasn't something that could be forced.

Kai's grip on Hillary tightened again, like he needed to ground himself. His breath came slow, controlled—but Dev could see the turmoil behind it.

He swallowed once.

"She needs warmth," Dev said, quieter this time. "Your call."

The next few seconds stretched unbearably long.

Dev hoped Kai would make the right call. Yet, he was already considering his options. He could overpower the two-toned haired boy if he continued to refuse. He knew it would be difficult, but not impossible. But he'd have to be fast. Hillary was running out of time.

Then—

Kai inhaled sharply.

"Lead the way," he bit out.

*****

Words: 2490

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