Stefan leaned against his working table, his hand pressed against his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers. Panic flickered in his eyes as he staggered, weakened by the wound. Without hesitation, you rushed to his side, concern etched on your face. Gently, your hands trembling as you assessed the injury.

"Hold on, Stefan," you whispered. With steady hands, you applied pressure to the wound, determination fuelling your actions as you vowed to save him, refusing to let him slip away.