Eliana didn't hear them. Or maybe she did, but her mind refused to absorb anything except the horrifying image of her father's still form being lifted from the ground. Her handbag lay a few feet away, buzzing with a text from an unknown number—its screen lighting up, unnoticed, irrelevant compared to the storm tearing her world apart.
"Papa…" Her voice quivered, thin as a breath, as she watched the paramedics strap him onto a stretcher. The sight hit her harder than the pavement had—Frank's chest barely rising, his face pale beneath the oxygen mask. "Papa… don't go without me…"
The words dissolved as the edges of her vision blurred, darkness curling inward like smoke. Her body swayed, her head tilting back as the world slipped away.
Pain… fear… grief… all swallowed by the heavy, consuming black.
Eliana lost consciousness before she could see the doors of the ambulance slam shut.
