<h4>Chapter 124: If she had known</h4>


    Darrell drove like a madman, swerving in and out ofnes as though thews of the road meant nothing. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles pale with strain, and his jaw remained clenched from the moment they left the council building.


    The moment they reached the hospital, Marlowe was immediately wheeled into the emergency room on a stretcher. Her body was limp, and her skin unnaturally pale. The red stain on her blouse had deepened by the minute, and all they could do was watch as the emergency doors swung closed behind her.


    Lucian, Serena, Darrell, and Adrian stood together in the waiting area. They were in a row, but each person was alone in their thoughts. Time seemed suspended, the air in the room heavy with anticipation, fear, and unspoken prayers. None of them spoke, yet the silence around them was loud, filled with tension and agony. Chairs lined the walls, but none of them could bring themselves to sit. They remained on their feet, pacing at times, or frozen in ce.


    Lucian appeared calm to an untrained eye, but a closer look would reveal the fine lines of strain across his face. His posture was stiff, hands locked behind his back in a tight grip that betrayed his internal struggle. Marlowe had not just been someone who worked for him or stayed in the house. She had be a fixture in his life. A constant. A woman who had protected, guided, and even challenged him when needed. She was not just a caretaker; she had be someone he respected deeply, someone he had grown to love in a quiet, unspoken way. The thought of losing her now, in such a brutal and abrupt manner, was not something he could wrap his mind around. He could not even begin to imagine what life without her presence would look like.


    Darrell and Adrian were equally devastated. Their eyes remained fixed on the closed double doors of the emergency room, as if staring hard enough might force them open and bring good news. They did not understand how Marlowe had been shot. They did not know who had done it or why, but none of that mattered at the moment. What mattered was whether she would live. She had be family, the kind that made holidays warmer and difficult days more bearable. The kind that never asked for anything but gave everything. The fear that they might lose her wed at their hearts relentlessly.


    Serena, however, was unraveling. The tears had not stopped since they entered the hospital. Her hands trembled at her sides, her lips quivered as she tried to keep herself from copsing entirely. Her clothes clung to her body, drenched in sweat and tears.


    She had not known Marlowe for long—just a few days—but in that short time, the woman had done something not even her own biological mother had done. She had cared, deeply and openly. She had made Serena feel like she mattered, like she was protected, seen, and epted. Marlowe had be more than a guardian; she had be a mother in the truest sense of the word.


    And now Serena was terrified of losing her just when she was starting to enjoy her. There were conversations they were supposed to have, codes they were meant to work on together, recipes Marlowe had promised to teach her. There was so much that had been left unsaid. So many things undone. Serena could not bear the thought of a world where Marlowe no longer existed. The woman had be a lifeline, and now it felt like someone was cutting that lifeline with cruel precision.


    The hours passed slowly. Nurses came and went, pushing carts, exchanging murmured updates among themselves, but none of them stopped to speak to the four individuals waiting just outside the emergency room. The longer they waited without word, the heavier the dread became. Every minute that ticked by without news felt like an eternity, stretching their hope thinner and thinner.


    Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, the doctor emerged. He wore pale blue scrubs stained slightly at the edges, a white coat that billowed slightly as he walked, and a weary expression that said more than his words ever could. He walked slowly toward them, his steps heavy, as though he bore the weight of bad news with every movement.


    His eyes settled on Lucian, and then he shook his head slightly, his lips pressing into a hard line. "I’m sorry," he said.


    Before the words could fully register, Serena screamed. The sound tore through the hallway, raw and piercing, drawing the attention of nurses and patients nearby. She lunged toward the doctor, her face contorted in panic and disbelief, but Lucian grabbed her before she could reach him.


    "No! No! Go back! Try again! You have to try again!" she cried, her voice hoarse and cracked. Her body trembled violently, as if she were being ripped apart from the inside. Her tears poured uncontrobly, soaking Lucian’s shirt and dripping onto the tiled floor beneath them.


    Even as Serena continued to scream and cry, the doors opened once more and Marlowe’s body was wheeled out. A sheet covered her from head to toe, white and unbroken, a final shroud that brought with it the weight of finality. Serena’s knees buckled at the sight.


    "No! Marlowe! Please! No!" she screamed again, her voice growing hoarser with each word. Her cries echoed through the corridor, unbearable in their desperation.


    Lucian pulled her close, holding her tightly against his chest. His arms wrapped around her firmly, not letting her fall, not letting herpletely fall apart. He said nothing, could not bring himself to speak. The news had hit him harder than he cared to admit. The ache in his chest was deep and unrelenting. Marlowe was gone.


    Darrell and Adrian stood behind them, both frozen in ce, unable to move or speak. Their eyes followed the stretcher as it rolled past them. Their faces were pale, jaws ck, unable toprehend the reality that had just struck them. Marlowe, the woman who had fussed over their meals, the woman who had smiled at them every morning—was now gone.


    Even after the body disappeared around the corner, their eyes remained locked on the hallway, as if refusing to ept that she was no longer there. There was a lingering hope that someone would call them back and say there had been a mistake. But no such call came.


    Lucian did not let go of Serena. Not when they left the hospital, not during the drive home, not even when they stepped out of the car. Serena clung to him, sobbing quietly now, her face buried against his chest. Her tears had soaked through his shirt, and her hands gripped the fabric tightly. It was as though she had lost her anchor to the world and Lucian was the only thing left keeping her grounded.


    He did not tell her to stop crying. He did not offer any titudes or tell her it would be okay. He simply let her cry. He stood as a quiet fortress offort, mourning with her in silence. His eyes, too, were rimmed with red, though no tears fell. His sorrow ran deep, silent and unspoken, but just as heavy as hers.


    Stepping out of the car and approaching the house was a new kind of pain for Serena. The house looked the same, but everything about it screamed Marlowe. She remembered the day they arrived from the bunker, how Marlowe had rushed out of the house, arms wide open, her face lit with joy and concern.


    Now, she would never see that again.


    Serena stood still at the entrance for a long moment. Her eyes scanned the front door, the wee mat Marlowe had insisted on keeping even though it was frayed, the flowers she had nted in the small garden bed beside the door. Everything was just as it had been this morning, but everything had changed.


    When they stepped inside, it was like walking into a shrine. Serena’s gaze was instantly drawn to thest spot she had seen the woman before leaving for the council building that morning. She remembered how worried Marlowe had been, how she had told her to call if anything felt strange. Serena remembered their breakfast, the warmth in Marlowe’s voice, herughter, the way she had gently fixed Serena’s hair and nagged her about eating more.


    Lucian led her to the nearest couch and she sank it, curling into herself, her body wracked with fresh sobs.


    If only she had known. If she had known this would be thest day, she would have hugged her longer. She would have told Marlowe she loved her. She would have thanked her. She would have told her she was her mother.


    The realization that she would never get that chance again broke herpletely.


    Lucian sat beside her, cing one hand over her shoulder. He still did not speak. He did not need to. The grief was mutual, and so was the silence that followed. Together, they sat in that house that suddenly felt too big, too empty, and much too quiet.


    And as the hours stretched, one question echoed in Serena’s heart—how would she go on from here?


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