29.

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Almost thirty minutes passed, and there was still no sign of Ren. At first, I brushed it off—she was probably just caught up in traffic or handling some last-minute business. But then my worry started creeping in. Ren was never this late without letting me know.

Just as I was about to call her again, a bunch of ambulances flew by, sirens blaring, speeding down the road like something serious had just gone down. A weird, uneasy feeling settled in my stomach.

I tried to shake it off. Maybe it wasn't anything. Maybe it was just—

"Oh," I muttered, forcing out a small laugh. "I bet that mean old lady from the complex finally gave out."

Yanna, who had been scrolling through her phone, looked up at me. "Huh?"

I shrugged, trying to keep my tone light. "The old lady down the road. She was like, ancient. Been living there since before we even moved in. I figured she finally croaked."

Yanna giggled, shaking her head. "That's so wrong."

I stood up, grabbing my phone and keys. "Can you drive me down there real quick? Just wanna be nosy."

She stretched, standing up too. "Yeah, sure."

We headed out to her car, and as soon as we pulled onto the main road, my stomach twisted again. The closer we got, the more I realized how many flashing lights were up ahead. Ambulances, cop cars, even a small crowd of people standing around.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling like this wasn't just about some old lady.

Something felt wrong.

Really, really wrong.

We both got out of the car, and the second my feet hit the pavement, I felt it—this heavy, sinking dread clawing at my chest. The flashing lights, the frantic voices, the sheer amount of blood staining the ground like someone had been butchered—it all made my breath hitch.

And then, I saw it.

Ren's Benz.

My whole body went cold. My ears started ringing, drowning out the noise around me. No, no, no. This couldn't be—

I turned my head, and that's when I saw her.

Stretched out on a gurney, unconscious, her face too still, too pale.

Something inside me snapped.

A blood-curdling scream tore out of my throat before I even realized I was screaming. It was raw, pained, like it had been ripped straight from my soul.

Yanna was by my side in an instant, her face twisted in confusion and concern. "What—"

Then, her eyes landed on Ren.

And she lost it.

"Ren!" she shrieked, her voice full of pure, unfiltered panic. She tried to run toward her, but before she could get far, one of the paramedics grabbed her, holding her back. She thrashed against them, her nails digging into their arms as she fought to get to Ren. "Let me go! That's my—" Her voice broke, and she let out a choked sob, still struggling. "Ren! Baby, wake up! Please—"

My legs felt weak. I was still frozen in place, my mind refusing to accept what I was seeing. But then, through the chaos, my eyes caught something on the ground.

A gun.

Not just any gun.

Daddy's gun.

The one Ren always carried with her, the one she never let out of her sight.

She must've had it on her.

My heart pounded as I looked around. The cops were distracted, too focused on the scene in front of them. Moving quickly, I crouched down, snatched the gun, and slid it under my shirt, pressing it against my waistband.

Just in case.

I sprinted toward the EMTs, my legs barely holding me up. My chest was tight, my breath ragged, but none of it mattered—I had to get to Ren.

"I'm her sister!" I cried, my voice cracking under the weight of my panic. "I need to go with her, please!"

One of the EMTs, a woman with tired eyes and a tight-lipped frown, placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "You can't ride in the ambulance, but you can follow us to the hospital," she said, her voice steady but not unkind.

I nodded frantically, trying to hold it together, but I could feel myself breaking. My hands were shaking, my vision blurry with tears I refused to let fall.

Yanna grabbed my wrist. "Come on, Zu." Her voice was shaky, barely above a whisper, but it was enough to ground me, to get me moving.

I turned back for one last look at Ren before they loaded her into the ambulance.

That's when I saw it.

The deep red stain, dark and spreading across the center of her shirt.

Where she got shot.

I stumbled back like I had been hit myself, my stomach twisting into knots. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

She wasn't just hurt—she was dying.

"Zuri, let's go," Yanna urged, tugging me toward the car.

But I couldn't move.

Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop staring at that stain. At the blood soaking through her clothes, at the way her body looked so lifeless on that gurney.

Ren—my big sister, my protector, the strongest person I knew—wasn't invincible.

And for the first time in my life, I realized I might actually lose her.

The entire car ride was a blur. My mind was trapped in the past, the same memory playing on a loop—the day I lost Daddy. The way his blood painted the pavement, the way my screams had mixed with the sirens, the way my whole world had shattered in an instant.

Now, I was right back there again. Only this time, it wasn't Daddy—it was Ren.

My big sister. My protector. My second parent.

I clutched onto Daddy's gun, still hidden under my shirt, my fingers digging into the cold metal. I was shaking so bad, I felt like I was going to pass out. My stomach was in knots, my heartbeat too fast, my breaths too shallow.

Yanna's grip on the steering wheel was tight, her knuckles white. She hadn't said much since we got in the car, just kept her eyes on the road, but I could feel her emotions heavy in the air. She was just as wrecked as me.

"I can't lose her," I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice.

Yanna inhaled sharply, like she was trying to keep herself together. "We won't," she said, but it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself.

The second we pulled up to the hospital, I jumped out the car before Yanna could even park properly. I ran inside, my heart hammering in my chest, and went straight to the front desk.

"My sister—Serenity Allen—she was just brought in," I rushed out, barely able to get the words past my dry throat.

The receptionist gave me a tight-lipped look. "Are you immediate family?"

"I'm her sister, yes!" I snapped, gripping the counter.

She sighed. "She's 23. We can only release information to a spouse or parent."

I felt my whole body go cold. That meant they wouldn't tell me shit.

But then an idea hit me.

I turned to Yanna, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her forward. "This is her wife," I said quickly, praying my voice sounded convincing.

Yanna's eyes widened in shock, but she caught on fast. "Yeah," she added, clearing her throat. "I'm—uh—I'm her wife."

The receptionist raised a brow but didn't question it. She just typed something into the system before looking back up at us.

"She's in surgery right now. I can't let you see her yet, but you're welcome to wait in the waiting area."

Surgery.

That word hit me like a ton of bricks.

I felt my knees buckle, and Yanna caught me before I could collapse.

"Okay," she told the receptionist, her voice barely steady.

We walked over to the waiting room, and as soon as we sat down, I put my face in my hands.

Yanna was shaking beside me. I could hear how unsteady her breathing was, how hard she was trying to keep it together.

Neither of us spoke.

We just sat there, drowning in our own fear, hoping to God that Ren would make it out alive.

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I must've fallen asleep at some point because the next thing I knew, someone was shaking my shoulder. My body jerked awake instantly, my heart already racing before my mind could even catch up.

Yanna stirred next to me, sitting up groggily as we both blinked up at the doctor standing in front of us. His expression was hard to read, but the exhaustion on his face was obvious.

"The surgery was successful," he started, and I let out a shaky breath of relief. But then he continued, "It's honestly a miracle she even made it through. The bullet was lodged dangerously close to a major artery. We had to work fast."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as sandpaper.

"The next 24 hours are crucial," he went on. "We've placed her in a medically induced coma to allow her body time to heal. She won't be able to breathe on her own yet, but we're monitoring her closely. If everything goes well, we'll start trying to wake her up in the next day or so."

My stomach twisted painfully. A coma. Ren was just lying there, unconscious, hooked up to machines, fighting for her life.

I checked the time on my phone.

12:04 AM.

Ren's birthday.

And instead of celebrating, instead of her being home, eating one of Nanny's big birthday meals and opening presents, she was stuck in a damn hospital bed.

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I fought them back. I had to be strong. For her.

"Can we see her?" I asked, my voice small.

The doctor nodded. "Only for a little while."

Yanna and I didn't waste a second. We followed him down the hall, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, the smell of antiseptic thick in the air. My hands were shaking, my legs felt weak, but I forced myself to keep walking.

When we finally reached the room, I felt like my heart had stopped.

Ren was lying there, still as death, a breathing tube down her throat, machines beeping softly around her.

She looked so helpless.

So lifeless.

I couldn't hold it back anymore. The tears spilled over as I rushed to her side, gripping her hand in mine.

"Happy birthday, dumbass," I whispered, my voice breaking.

Yanna let out a choked laugh behind me, but it was full of pain.

I squeezed Ren's hand tighter, like maybe if I held on hard enough, I could pull her back to me.

She had to wake up.

She had to.