Pain like fire tore through Melissa’s shoulder, every movement sending fresh agony through her body. She barely noticed the tears on her face, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Shit, hold still, Melissa!” Mari’s voice was sharp, urgent.

She tried—but every shift only made it worse. When Mari gripped the bolt, white-hot pain exploded through her, a scream wrenching from her throat.

“It’s barbed,” Mari cursed. “I can’t pull it out.”

“Then stop fucking pulling!” Melissa sobbed, gripping your arm, nails digging in. You were the only thing keeping her grounded.

“You’re okay,” you murmured, voice shaking but steady. “I’ve got you.”

But she wasn’t. The pain, the blood loss—it was drowning her. Then your hand was on her face. Warm. Steady.

“Melissa.” Your voice cut through the haze. “We have to push it through.”

A choked, breathless laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I wish I was.”

Her vision swam, but she saw it in your eyes—you wouldn’t let her die here.

"Okay," she whispered. "Do it."

"On three."

You pushed.

Agony. A scream tore from her throat as the barbs ripped through muscle. Her body convulsed against you, shaking violently.

“It’s out,” you said quickly. “Melissa, breathe.”

She couldn’t. Every inhale was torture. Mari wrapped her shoulder, the pressure making her whole body seize. More tears slipped down her cheeks.

“You’re okay,” you whispered, arms still around her. “I’ve got you.”

She wasn’t. And as the world blurred, fear settled deep in her chest.

She wasn’t going to make it.

But you were still there, holding her, whispering, keeping her here. She clung to you, desperate.

“D-Don’t—” Her fingers curled weakly into your sleeve. “Don’t leave me.”