Her grandmother lay on the sterile white hospital bed, blood staining the sheets near her wrists, her face bone-white, teetering on the edge of death.
She told me to run. Even if it cost her everything. She said she'd be at peace with it.
No. Isla shook her head hard, eyes flooding red.
Isla sat rigid in her wheelchair, breath catching irregularly. The image alone felt like a thousand arrows through her chest she could barely draw a full breath.
"No number, no rescue. Try begging Grayson instead let's see if your grandmother can survive the wait." Bianca stayed on her knees, voice rasping, more terrifying than any threat she'd made before.
Isla's fists clenched. Watching Bianca's smug, self-satisfied face, she wanted nothing more than to tear it apart with her bare hands.
But I can't
