KAREN’S POV
The world slowed to a suffocating crawl as I stood there, my lungs burning with every breath of smoke-thickened air. Flames licked at the edges of my vision, their hungry glow casting jagged shadows across Jackson’s face.
His muscles coiled with raw, desperate strength as he fought back the fire, the extinguisher hissing violently in his grip. Sweat streaked through the soot darkening his skin, his jaw locked tight, his eyes—wide and wild—reflecting the chaos around us.
Then my gaze landed on the table.
It was empty.
The cooler containing the cure was gone.
And beside it… my mother’s journal lay burning on the floor.
A scream clawed its way up my throat but died before it could escape, leaving only a shattered whisper. No… no, no—
My legs gave out. I hit the floor hard, the impact shuddering through my bones, but I barely felt it. My hands trembled as they hovered over the ashes, my fingers ghosting over the brittle remains of her words—her voice—now nothing more than frag
