The rain was relentless, a deafening roar against James’s car as he sped through the storm. Your phone call had ended in a sudden crash, your scream echoing in his ears before the line went dead. His heart pounded, his grip tight on the steering wheel, dread twisting in his gut.

When he arrived, the sight hit him like a physical blow. Your car was crumpled against a tree, the front end smashed beyond recognition. The faint glow of the headlights illuminated your motionless form lying on the rain-slicked pavement.

James leapt from his car, ignoring the downpour as he rushed to your side. “No,” he muttered, his voice raw with panic. “No, no, no.” He dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as he gently turned your face toward him. Blood streamed from a gash on your temple, mingling with the rain.

“Darling,” he whispered, his voice cracking. He pressed his fingers to your neck, searching desperately for a pulse. When he found it—faint but steady—he let out a shaky breath. “You’re still with me.”

The sight of your pale face and closed eyes made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t used to. James Barrie, feared by all who knew him as Hook, felt utterly powerless. He brushed the wet hair from your face, his thumb skimming over your cold cheek.

“Come on, darling,” he urged, his tone a mix of desperation and anger. “You don’t get to leave me. Not like this.”

The distant wail of sirens broke through the storm, but he didn’t move, didn’t let go. As the rain poured down, soaking him to the bone, he leaned closer, his hand rubbing fast up and down your chest to create pain to wake you.

When the paramedics arrived, James refused to let them push him aside. He held your hand tightly as they worked, his gaze never leaving your face. Even as they lifted you onto a stretcher, he stayed with you, following them into the ambulance.

The storm raged on outside, but James’s focus was only on you. On the faint rise and fall of your chest. On the promise that he would never let anything take you away from him.