Chapter 16

I couldn't collapse—not yet. Freya needed me.

I took a deep breath and forced myself upright, leaning heavily against the wall for support.

When I made it back to the operating room, the light above the door had gone dark. The door creaked open.

"Doctor, how is Freya?" My voice came out hoarse and desperate.

The surgeon pulled down his mask, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Johnson. We did everything we could. Freya's ribs were too badly shattered—they punctured her internal organs..."

A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. Whatever he said after that, I couldn't hear. I could only watch his lips move while a nurse stood silently beside him, her head bowed.

Then they brought Freya out.

She was wrapped in a thin blue sterile cloth, lying so still, so peaceful—as if she were only sleeping.

I tried to speak, but no words came. The metallic taste of blood spread through my mouth and nose.

The veterinary staff watched me with worried eyes.

I lifted my gaze and caught my reflection in the glass window of the hallway.

The woman staring back at me was gaunt, hollow-cheeked, skeletal. A ghost that could be blown away by the slightest breeze.

After arranging Freya's cremation, I sent Ryan a goodbye message.

He was the only friend I'd made in this city—the only person who'd shown me genuine kindness.

Then I blocked every contact associated with Ethan, changed my phone number, and boarded a plane to Novaria.

All I carried with me was a small urn containing Freya's ashes.