Charlotte watched as Crawley's body slowed… the violent jerks softening into faint, uneven tremors.
She didn't look away.
She refused to.
Her throat burned raw from all the screaming she had done. The gag pressed harshly against her mouth, soaking up her breath, her saliva, her pain. Each inhale felt too shallow, each exhale caught somewhere between panic and exhaustion. She wanted to bite down on her own tongue, to end it, to escape, but even that was denied to her.
So she watched.
She watched every second of his suffering, every flicker of pain that crossed his ruined body, because he had chosen her.
In both lives.
Her gaze hardened, the last of her tears long gone, leaving only a dry, aching heat behind.
If this was what her second chance had become…
Then perhaps there would be another.
There had to be.
