His head stopped moving. He felt my presence in his brain. His body ground to a halt, and his smoky gaze landed on me. There we were, the two of us, staring at each other across the frenzy of the dance floor. I shouted at him, but the music drowned out my voice. He raised his drink to me, a toast. His grim lips bent into a grin, and I knew in my heart what that awful smile meant.

I was too late.

I shouted again. No one paid any attention. No one heard me.

The lights went off and on. In that split second, Dylan disappeared. He vanished from where he was, and I didn’t see him again. But Karly was still here somewhere. Dying. I knew it. I fought my way through the crowd. When I got to the building’s brick wall, I headed for the back of the club, where people hid from the tumult and noise. I pushed past couples making love in the dark. I slipped on spilled drinks and God knows what else. As the strobes flashed—blink, blink, blink—I spotted someone on the floor. A woman. She sat in the corner with her knees against her chest and her arms wrapped around them.

“Karly!”

I scrambled to her and got down on my knees beside her. Blond hair covered her face. When I pushed it aside, her stare was empty, seeing nothing. Her head turned, but when she looked at me, I don’t think she saw me. I watched her lips move; she said something, but in the chaos of the club, I couldn’t hear what it was. I put my arms around her. As I did, my hand sank into a river of blood. When I pulled away, my fingers were covered in crimson red that blinked on and off in the lights.

“Help! We need help! Over here!”

No one heard me.

I put my lips to her ear and whispered. “Karly, hang on. Please hang on. Stay with me.”

Her head sank against my shoulder, the way it had a million times before. At the movie theater, in the car, in front of the fireplace, on the pillows in bed. It felt so warm, so good, so familiar, as if it should last forever. But she was leaving me again. She was getting farther away, dragged from me by a river of blood that pulsed between my fingers. I put my palm to her chest, feeling her ragged, rattling breath go in and out.

“Karly, I love you.”

In.

Out.

“You’re my wife. I love you.”

In.

Out.

“I should have saved you. I failed you. I’m sorry, God I’m so sorry.”

In.

Out.

And then nothing.

“Karly.”

Nothing. She was gone. I’d found her again and lost her again.

“Karly.”

All I could do was say her name and hold her limp body.