Fallen Angel [Bellamy Blake]

Chapter 30: Whispers

I LOOK DOWN AT MY FEET, FEELING like the world is starting to close in on me.

For the past few days, I'd let myself believe something dangerous—that I could trust Bellamy. That, despite everything, he was someone I could rely on.

And the worst part?

It wasn't even a lie.

He was the reason most of us were still alive.

The thought twists in my chest.

I push off the wall, determined to go after him—to stop him before he does something he can't come back from. But with every step toward the ladder, it gets harder to breathe. My chest tightens, each inhale shallow, unsatisfying.

My headache spikes, sharp and sudden, and my vision fractures—black stars bursting at the edges.

The air.

It has to be the air.

Thick. Stale. Wrong.

The edges of the room blur, the walls tilting slowly to one side like the whole bunker is shifting off its foundation. I reach out instinctively, trying to steady myself, but my hand meets nothing.

I stumble.

Drop to my hands and knees.

The ground feels uneven beneath me, like it's moving, like I'm trying to balance on something that won't stay still. My arms give out before I can catch myself again, and I hit the concrete hard.

The cold seeps into my skin instantly.

"Kate."

The voice is soft. Familiar.

Wrong.

No one calls me that.

No one except—

My breath catches.

Slowly—too slowly—I turn my head toward the sound, every movement heavy, like I'm dragging myself through water.

And then I see him.

My heart stops.

"Wells?"

He's standing there like nothing ever happened. Like he didn't die. Like he didn't bleed out in the dirt while I—

I—

He walks toward me, unhurried, calm. Whole.

"My Kate," he says, crouching beside me.

Shame burns through me, hot and immediate, as I lay there at his feet—weak, broken, nothing like the person I was supposed to be.

His eyes flick to my neck. "Bellamy Blake gave you my necklace."

I reach for it without thinking, fingers fumbling—but the chain twists unnaturally in my grip, tangling in on itself like it's alive. I gasp, dropping it, staring up at him.