My voice felt unfamiliar, distant—like it had been buried beneath something heavy for too long. I tried to steady it, but it came out thin, fragile. "The journal?"
Jason nodded, slow and deliberate, like he'd been holding those words inside for longer than he'd care to admit. His gaze stayed locked on mine, unwavering. "Your mother's journal. I need it."
I almost laughed, but the sound died in my throat, lost somewhere between disbelief and something darker. "I told you... she died of cancer. She didn't leave behind secrets, Jason. She left me." My voice faltered, and for a moment, I couldn't hide the sharp sting in my chest. "She left me alone."
Jason didn't flinch. He just kept watching me, his eyes softened but intense.
"She used to write, right?"
I turned away, my heart pressing heavily against my ribs. "She said it was her way of remembering," I murmured, barely above a whisper. "She said it made the loneliness quieter."
Jason's gaze never left me. His voice was quieter now, more urgent, but still tinged with that sharpness. "She was silenced, Janica. She knew something. Something big. And that journal—it's not just memories. It's evidence."
I let out a breath, shaky and uneven, the weight of his words sinking in.
"Even if it exists," I whispered, my mind already pulling away from the thought. "I wouldn't even know where to start looking."
Jason didn't argue. He just watched me a moment longer before reaching for something on the table beside him. He grabbed a glass of water, offering it to me without a word. I took it, my fingers brushing his for a second as I held the glass, the coolness a stark contrast to the heat building in my chest.
"Then we start with memories," he said softly.
Before I could respond, the door creaked open.
The nurse who entered wasn't the calm, composed woman from earlier. Her face was paler than I'd ever seen it. Her hands gripped the chart like it might fly away. She looked like she had just seen a ghost.
"There's a problem," she said, her voice strained.
Jason moved fast. He pulled the blinds aside just enough to peek through. His eyes flickered to the street outside, his body taut with attention.
"There's a car across the street. Been parked for two hours. One man inside. Shades. Doesn't move," the nurse said.
I felt a cold prickle race across my skin, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Every instinct screamed danger.
The nurse turned back to me, fumbling slightly as she held out her phone. "And someone tried to authorize your transfer to another hospital."
I blinked, my heart stalling. "By who?"
She hesitated—just a flicker of doubt—and then said, "The name they used... was your mother's."
The floor seemed to shift under me, as if the earth had suddenly become unstable. My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat. I gripped the edge of the bed to steady myself, but it wasn't enough. Everything inside me was spiraling, untethered.
Jason was beside me in an instant.
His hand found mine first, firm and steady, grounding me. And then, without a word, he pulled me gently into his chest. His arms wrapped around me, strong and sure, his warmth cutting through the chill that had seized my bones.
I pressed my face against him, letting the steady beat of his heart anchor me back to the moment.
"How is that possible?" I whispered, my voice cracking.
Jason's jaw clenched against my hair. I felt it rather than saw it. His whole body radiated a quiet, lethal anger, the kind that said he would burn down the world if it meant keeping me safe.
"They're coming for you, Janica," he said, his voice low, filled with urgency. The weight of his words settled between us, a warning more than anything.
A cold knot twisted in my stomach, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out everything else. The pain in my shoulder flared sharply, a reminder of the bullets, the violence, the chaos. I sucked in a shaky breath, trying to keep my focus, but the pain pulled at me, spreading like a wildfire.
I turned to Jason, my eyes wide, panic clawing at my chest, rising like a tidal wave, mixing with the searing pain that throbbed through my body. The room felt smaller, the air heavier. My pulse was a frantic rhythm in my ears, drowning out everything else. Every breath was a struggle, each inhale making the pain flare sharper, more intense. I couldn't stop myself from shaking as the cold knot in my stomach twisted harder.
I forced the words out, barely audible, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and the ache that consumed me. "Then we don't let them," I whispered, the words feeling like they came from someone else, someone desperate to hold on to any shred of control.
Jason's eyes were locked on mine, his gaze hardening, cutting through the fear that threatened to swallow me whole. His voice was steel, low, and unwavering. "We need a nurse's coat. And a wheelchair."
The nurse froze, confusion clouding her features as she looked between us. Her eyes flickered to me, then to Jason, uncertainty flickering in her gaze. "For what?"
Jason's command was swift, final, like the sound of a door slamming shut. "It's the only one we've got."
The words barely registered before the world became a blur. My heartbeat pounded in my chest, each throb of fear and dread moving in rhythm with the pain that shot through my shoulder. My mind raced, scrambling for clarity, but there was only the rush of adrenaline and a tightness in my chest.
I barely registered the nurse moving around us, her actions frantic, her hurried whispers lost in the pounding noise of my own pulse. The coat—too big, too heavy—was draped over me, the fabric scratching against my raw skin. Jason's grip on my hand was firm, the only thing grounding me in the chaos.
Every step felt like an eternity. The hallway stretched out before us like a maze, its walls closing in, suffocating. The sterile white tiles beneath my feet felt slippery, treacherous, as if the world was conspiring to keep us trapped here.
I couldn't think. Couldn't focus on anything except the searing pain and the frantic fear that twisted in my gut, tightening with every heartbeat. My body felt as though it was moving on its own, responding to some primal instinct, but my mind… it was consumed by chaos.
Each step we took seemed to echo in my ears, as if every movement could be our last.
When we finally reached the basement garage, Jason stopped beside the car, his eyes scanning the shadows like a hawk. His body was tense, every muscle coiled tight, ready for anything.
"We move fast, Janica," he said, his voice low and clipped, sharp as a knife. "No hesitation. We don't stop until we're out of here."
His words were a command, not a suggestion. There was no room for uncertainty, no time for second-guessing. It was as if everything depended on the next few moments.
But then—
Headlights sliced through the darkness, cutting across the night like a knife. My breath hitched.
A man stepped from the shadows. He was tall, wearing a coat that flared slightly at the bottom, his features sharp, a silhouette that seemed almost unreal in the dim light.
He raised his hands, slow and deliberate. "I'm not here to hurt you," he said, his voice calm, almost soothing. "I'm here to help, Janica please let me."
Jason's reflexes were faster than my mind could process. His hand shot to his gun, fingers tightening around the grip, his gaze never leaving the man.
But the man didn't flinch. His eyes locked onto mine, as though he saw right through me, like I was the only person who mattered.
"Janica," he said, his voice soft, yet filled with authority. "Your mother trusted me. She told me… if anything ever happened to her—you'd come looking for the truth."
Jason's gun didn't lower, his grip tightening. "What the hell is this?"
The man's gaze never wavered. "Your mother knew what was coming. She made sure you'd have help when the time came."
I stood there, frozen. This man, was a stranger—but he knew my mother, and he knew me. My heart pounded, a mix of fear and and hope.