The flickering neon light of the operating room cast eerie shadows on the stainless steel instruments. Noah Lee, his face etched with concentration, wiped the sweat from his brow as he examined James's pale, lifeless form. The silver bullet had done its damage, and time was running out.
"He's losing too much blood," Noah muttered, his voice tight with urgency. "Silver poisoning his heart. We need to act fast."
Emma, her hands trembling, stepped forward. "What can I do? Tell me!"
Noah turned to her, his dark eyes searching for hers. "You're immune to the silver's toxicity. Your blood might be the only thing that can save him. But if we use too much, you could die."
Emma didn't hesitate. "Do it. Take whatever you need."
As Emma lay down on the adjacent table, Noah prepared the equipment. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood.
Emma closed her eyes,she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else:"James saved my life more times than I can count, I owe him this."
Noah glanced at her, his voice softening. "You're brave, Emma. Not many would make this choice."
Emma managed a weak smile. "Brave or stupid? Sometimes it's hard to tell."
Noah chuckled despite the tension. "Let's hope it's the former."
As the transfusion began, Emma felt a strange warmth spread through her body. The room seemed to blur, and she focused on the sound of James's faint heartbeat on the monitor. It was slow but steady—a, a small beacon of hope in the chaos.
"Stay with us, James," Emma murmured, her voice barely audible. "You're not done yet."
Noah watched the monitors closely, his hands steady as he adjusted the flow. "We're in uncharted territory here. His body is responding, but I can't predict the long-term effects."
Emma's vision blurred, and she felt a wave of dizziness. "How much longer?"
"Just a few more minutes," Noah replied, his voice tense. "Hang in there, Emma."
The room fell silent except for the rhythmic beeping of the machines. Emma's thoughts drifted to the first time she had met James, his sarcastic humor and unyielding determination. He had always been the one to pull her back from the brink, and now it was her turn to save him.
As the transfusion completed, Noah quickly disconnected the tubes and checked James's vitals. "His heart rate's stabilizing. The silver's concentration is dropping."
Emma let out a shaky breath, her body feeling heavy and drained. "Did it work?"
Noah nodded, a rare smile breaking through his usual stoic demeanor. "It worked. You did it, Emma."
James's fingers twitched, and his eyelids fluttered open. The moment his gaze met hers, it was as if the world had stopped. His hand shot up, gripping hers with strength that surprised her.
His voice was hoarse, but the words were clear, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Don’t leave me again."
Emma’s breath caught in her throat. The vulnerability in his eyes was something she had never seen before, not in the man who always wore a mask of stoicism. Her heart ached, and she squeezed his hand back, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside her. "I’m not going anywhere. Not this time."
The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in as the weight of their unspoken history hung between them. James’s grip tightened, his eyes searching hers for something—reassurance, maybe, or perhaps forgiveness. "I thought I lost you," he murmured, his voice cracking. "When I woke up and you were gone—"
"I’m here now," Emma interrupted, her tone firm but laced with a tenderness she hadn’t allowed herself to show before. "And I’m not leaving. Not again."
The grand estate of the Lee family was abuzz with activity, every corner adorned with lavish floral arrangements, flickering candles, and shimmering silver accents. The air was thick with the scent of roses and the faint hum of string quartet rehearsals. Emma Brown stood before the ornate gilded mirror in her dressing room, her reflection a vision of bridal elegance. Yet, her mind was far from the serene image staring back at her.
“You look stunning,” James Lee’s voice broke through her thoughts as he stepped into the room, his tailored tuxedo fitting him like a second skin. He approached her, his gaze soft but probing. “But you’re not here, are you? Your mind’s somewhere else.”
Emma turned to him, her hands clutching the delicate fabric of her gown. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about everything,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “About Owen, about Henry, about what it means to be part of your family.”
James stepped closer, his hand gently cupping her face. “Emma, I know this isn’t easy. But you’re not alone. I’m here, and I’ll protect you from whatever comes our way.”
She searched his eyes, finding a steadiness that anchored her swirling thoughts. “What if it’s not enough?” she murmured, her voice trembling. “What if the past doesn’t stay buried?”
James’s grip tightened slightly, his tone firm but gentle. “Then we’ll face it together. But right now, this is about us. About our future. Don’t let the shadows of the past steal this moment from you.”
Emma took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as she leaned into his touch. “You’re right,” she said, a small smile breaking through her anxiety. “This is our day. I won’t let anything ruin it.”
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