I do not remember grabbing shoes and I do not remember locking the door, because I am already running before my brain catches up with what is happening, and the rain is still falling hard against the trees while I sprint down the path in my pajamas with mud splashing up my legs.
Declan keeps pace beside me without saying a word, and his longer stride makes it effortless for him to stay level with me even though my lungs are burning and my stitches are pulling with every step.
The hospital lights come into view through the trees, glowing white and sterile against the dark forest, and I push harder even though my body is still weak from the earlier pain.
When we burst through the entrance doors, nurses glance up in surprise, but someone must have been expecting us because a staff member a
