His hands were shaking.

You were in his arms, your breathing shallow, and for a moment—just one horrifying moment—it all felt too familiar. The weight of your body, the panic, the helplessness… it dragged him back to that night. The night he lost her.

“No, no, no,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “Not again. Not you too…”

His jaw clenched, tears already running down his cheeks. His voice broke as he pressed his hand against your side, trying to keep you here, trying to keep everything from slipping away.

“Stay with me, baby,” he begged, his voice thick with tears. “You gotta stay. Please.”

He cupped your cheek with one blood-stained hand, looking at you like he was seeing two people at once—you, and the ghost of the little girl he couldn’t save.

“I didn’t protect her… but I swear to God, I’ll protect you.”

His forehead touched yours as he choked back a sob.

“You don’t get to leave me, baby. Not you.”