For a few seconds after the gunshot, the world seemed to lose its balance.
The sound still rang in the air, sharp and unforgiving, refusing to fade as quickly as it should. It clung to the walls, to the floor, to every trembling breath in the room, as if reminding them all that something irreversible had just happened.
Cynthia's body collapsed fully into Jackson's arms, her strength gone as quickly as it had been taken. The pain had drained the color from her face, leaving her pale and fragile, her breathing uneven and frighteningly weak.
Jackson held her tightly, his hands pressing desperately against the wound, trying to stop the blood that refused to listen.
"Stay with me… please, stay with me," he kept repeating, his voice breaking under the weight of fear. His fingers trembled, his entire body shaking as he tried to hold on to something that felt like it was slipping away too fast.
