Page 135 of Forged

But she was supposed to be safe, she was with Violette on an ordinary afternoon. She was just going shopping.

The car door slams as I drop into the passenger seat. Enzo isalready behind the wheel, the engine roaring to life before I’ve even buckled in. The convoy moves instantly—two SUVs locking in behind us, another pulling ahead. The gate opens, and we’re gone.

The city blurs past the windshield in streaks of sunlight. I drag a hand through my hair, my breath uneven. I need to hear her voice. I need to know if she’s okay.

Then I think of Gabriel.

My hands shake as I pull my phone from my pocket, dialing his number. He answers on the first ring.

“Lars?”

“Neomi,” I say, the word catching in my throat before I force it out. “Her car exploded.”

The silence that follows is tight, coiled with fear.

“Is she…is she all right?” he asks, his voice shaking in a way that makes my chest tighten further.

“Yes,” I breathe. “She’s okay. She’s at Northwestern Memorial getting checked out.”

“I’m on my way. Stay calm, baby.”

I blow out a tight breath. “I’m having trouble with that right now.”

“I know, but she’ll be okay. I’ll see you in a couple of minutes, okay? I love you, Lars.”

I look down, picking a piece of lint off my pant leg. “Okay. Love you, too.”

He hangs up the call, and I stare at the screen before dropping my hand, my breath refusing to settle. The panic is still there, sharp and insistent, clawing its way up from somewhere deep.

Enzo glances at me, his expression unreadable, but his presence solid. “We’re almost there,” he says.

I nod, but it’s reflex. Because my mind is already imagining the scene—smoke, fire, metal twisting under heat. The image forms whether I want it to or not, each detail sharper than the last. What if she had been closer? Whatif?—

“Lars.”

Enzo’s voice cuts through it, firmer now. I look at him.

“Don’t spiral before you see her,” he says, his tone steady and grounding. “You need to hold it together until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

There’s no judgment in it. It’s just Enzo walking me back from the edge. He knows me better than anyone in this world, and he can tell I’m crumbling inside.

It’s the only thing that keeps me from breaking apart completely.

I swallow hard and force a nod. “Okay.”

But my hands still won’t stop shaking.

The hospital doors slide open,and security moves ahead of us, clearing space, voices low and efficient. I can barely hear them. The world narrows, everything else fading until there’s only one thing left in focus.

Her.

Neomi sits upright in the hospital bed, a thin blanket draped over her legs, a nurse bracing her shoulder while a doctor leans in close, finishing a careful pass with a pair of tweezers. A small shard of glass catches the light before he drops it into a metal tray already dotted with others. Her hair is damp where they’ve been working, pushed back to expose a shallow cut near her hairline, and a deeper bruise has begun to bloom along her temple.

She winces, her fingers tightening in the blanket, and a soft cough breaks from her chest.

Every muscle in my body locks.

The doctor glances up when I step into the room, assessing me in a second before shifting his attention back to Neomi. “Almost done,” he says, voice steady, like this is routine. Like she didn’t just walk away from something that could have killed her.