“It’s okay.” Maryanne slurred the words, blood dribbling from the corners of her mouth. She sounded like she was drunk, but it wasn’t from alcohol. It wasn’t sweet wine or hard vodka that made her friend’s eyes seem opaque. It was death. “Doesn’t hurt.”

“Doesn’t hurt?” A massive figure looked over Maryanne’s body, the same devil who’d shot at Lila when she’d tried to handle the bullet wounds on her friend’s body. “I hurt every day and you were the reason. Why couldn’t you love me?”

Her friend was nothing but a prize to be won. Maryanne had been this man’s property and when she’d tried to break away from his abuse, he’d killed her. He hadn’t cared how strong and brave she’d been, didn’t care about Maryanne’s intelligence or how much she cared about every patient that came into the hospital. She was nothing but property to this man, and he wouldn’t allow anyone to take what he claimed as his.

He fired again, the sound jarring through her as Maryanne’s body jerked one last time.

The light in her eyes died.

Lila looked up and into the barrel of the gun and knew her life was over.

And that it had all been meaningless.

•   •   •

She gasped as she came out of the dream, her whole body shaking. It took a moment to remember where she was. Not in Dallas. She wasn’t in Dallas, and it had been a long time since she’d faced down Maryanne’s husband, since she’d looked up and known he would pull that trigger and that no one would miss her. That wasn’t true. Her brother and sisters would mourn her. Her mom might think about her from time to time, but they would all move on and she would be nothing more than a memory. She hadn’t been essential to anyone.

She’d never truly loved someone, and in that moment, she’d understood that loving someone was more important than anything else. Not having someone love her. It was different. She wanted to look into that gun and pray for one more minute with the man she loved, but all she’d felt was impatience to get it over with, regret that she didn’t care more.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

“Come here.”

Oh god, she wasn’t alone. Not that she could forget that Armie LaVigne was in her bed since he was taking up almost all the space. She should get up and let him sleep. When she dreamed about that day, she never got back to sleep. It was only four in the morning. Armie didn’t have to be back at the station house until nine. He needed rest.