In love with his own killer

L

Chapter 50
Treasure's POV:

Sunlight spilled across the terrace, golden and soft, the kind of warmth that seeped into your bones and didn't let go. I could hear laughter, his laughter, rich and unguarded, and it wrapped around me like a song I had once known but almost forgotten.

Elijah was there, standing just a few feet away, his expression open, his eyes soft, and for the first time, completely his. No walls. No suspicion. No danger. Just him and me.

I wanted to run to him, to throw myself into the space between us and never let go. Instead, I stayed a moment, letting the light warm my face and the sound of him fill the empty parts of me.

"Treasure," he said, voice low but steady, carrying something I hadn't dared hope for: trust.

I crossed the terrace slowly, every step lighter than air. He didn't flinch, didn't question, didn't hold back. When I reached him, he took my hands in his, the familiar warmth of his palms grounding me, rooting me to this impossible, perfect reality.

"Stay," he whispered, almost reverently. "Right here. Don't go anywhere."

And I believed him.

We moved together through streets bathed in afternoon sunlight, hand in hand. Every corner held peace. Every glance shared was a promise. People passed by, smiling, oblivious to our small world, but I didn't care. I had him. I had this—him, me, alive, whole, unbroken.

We laughed, our voices mingling in a melody that had no space for danger or betrayal. I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time in so long, I allowed myself to believe in us.

"Do you ever think about it?" I asked softly, eyes closed against the warmth.

"About what?" he replied, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his thumb lingering a moment longer than it needed to.

"About... everything we could have had," I whispered. "If things were different."

He paused, as if weighing the words, then tightened his hold on me. "I think about it every day," he admitted. "Every single day. But right now... I'm here. You're here. That's enough."

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but they weren't sad. They were relief, joy, longing, and love all tangled together.

He leaned closer, and I felt the warmth of his lips brush mine—not rushed, not urgent, but deliberate and tender. I closed my eyes and let myself sink into it, into him, into a life I had dreamed of but never dared touch.

And I thought, just for a moment, that maybe... this could be real.

I felt the warmth of his hands, the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek, and I let myself sink into it. Laughter, sunlight, peace, I had it all.

Then a sharp sting jolted me awake.

The sunlight was gone. The terrace, the streets, the laughter, they all vanished.

I blinked, groggy and disoriented, and the first thing I noticed was the smell, antiseptic. Cold, sterile, unyielding. The hard beep of a monitor replaced Elijah's heartbeat, and I realized with a jolt that the warmth I had felt was gone.

I tried to move, tried to lift my hand to my stomach, and pain shot through me, sharp and unrelenting. My vision swam. Reality hit like ice.

I was in a hospital bed.

Around me, familiar faces hovered—my team. Relief and worry etched across their features. James sat closest, hand clutching mine, trying to keep his voice light even though his eyes betrayed it.