DANTE'S POV
Linda’s bloodied body had been rushed into the emergency operating room, leaving Finn and me standing in the hallway.
The doors closed with a loud slam as the stretcher passed through, the sound echoing like the end of a sorrowful melody.
I couldn’t move. My legs felt like lead, and my mind was blank.
Finn was beside me, his voice low and urgent. “Dante,” he said, gripping my shoulder. “You know that this wasn’t your fault, right? You couldn’t have stopped her.”
I didn’t respond. How could I?
Linda’s words haunted me, her cries of desperation echoing endlessly in my head. You don’t believe me, do you? I’ll have to prove my innocence by dying. And then the window. The fall. The blood.
“It doesn’t feel that way,” I finally whispered, my voice cracking.
Finn shook his head, his grip tightening. “Listen to me. You can’t take this on yourself. Linda… Linda made her choices. You tried to help her. That’s all anyone could’ve done.”
Before I could answer, a loud, piercing wail
