He's Alive

Isla

“Ella,” I whisper. I’m in shock. My entire body hums with adrenaline as I try to step deeper into what remains of my living room. Everything is ash and embers. The ceiling is gone, revealing the glare of the midmorning sun.

And there she is, kneeling in the center of the room, covered in her mate’s blood.

Maddox lurches forward, but I grab him around the waist and haul him back. “Wait!”

Ella pants, her chest heaving with each ragged breath she takes. In the distance, I hear sirens. Smoke funnels toward the sky. It’s only a matter of minutes until people start descending on our property, and they can’t see this.

“Ella,” I repeat, louder this time. “Take off the mask, honey.”

She whimpers as she raises her bloody hands, her sea-green eyes full of tears. She’s wearing a dress that may have been white at some point. It’s thin, and hanging off her body, which is covered in bruises and deep scratches. I’m not sure where she’s hurt. I’m not sure what blood is hers and what blood is R