Chapter Ninety-eight

Louis cradled Angela’s fragile form in his arms, his heart breaking with each shallow breath she took. Her blood stained his hands, the ground beneath them, her life seeping away with every second that passed. The world around him seemed to dim, the sounds of the forest fading into a distant hum. All he could focus on was the woman he loved, slipping through his fingers like sand. His vision blurred, and he blinked furiously, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

But then, through the haze of grief and fear, he heard it—the faint crunch of sticks, the soft rustle of leaves disturbed by something...