Her head is lolled to the side, blood-streaked across her face.

"Ivy." My voice is barely a whisper when I reach out to touch her, hesitant. "Wake up, angel. Please wake up."

I'm not supposed to move her, but it's the only thing I want to do. I want to cradle her in my arms and tell her it's going to be okay. I will find a way to save her. Instead, I reach for her hand, only to realize her arm and several of her fingers have been broken. They are already starting to swell, bruises forming along the skin. Her dress is torn down the side, scrapes and gashes marring her legs and her arms. She's bleeding from her lip and possibly somewhere else. I can't tell.

I'm trying to drag my phone from my pocket when I hear Marco's voice, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. "I already called, boss. They’re on their way."

I look up at him, a desperation I've never known altering my voice beyond all comprehension. "What do we do?"

He swallows, eyes glassy. "I... think you need to check her pulse."

My chest heaves, emotion threatening to break free as I stroke my wife's face. Marco watches on as I move my trembling fingers to her throat, trying to feel for a pulse. It's the most terrifying moment of my life, and I'm shaking too badly to feel anything. I dig deeper, pressing my fingers into her skin, begging for something. Anything.

"Help me," I plead. “Marco…”

An ambulance turns the corner. Marco did right. He called for the Society's medical team. Ivy will have a fighting chance. I have to believe that.

"Excuse us, Mr. De La Rosa." Someone taps me on the shoulder as paramedics begin attending to her, rattling off information as they try to move her onto a stretcher.

I can't seem to let go of her arm. The edges of my eyes are darkening, my vision narrowing to a pinpoint as my breathing becomes too shallow to draw air.

"Santiago." Marco pries my hand from her, and instinctively, I take a swing at him as I stagger to my feet.

He grabs me by the shoulders, shaking me, and when I try to fight him off, he backhands me across the face, shocking me back to reality.

"Pull yourself together, Santiago," he growls. "Do it for your wife."

My nostrils flare as a long, painful sound leaves my lungs. He's right. I know he's right. But I don't know how to pull myself together when the only thing that matters is falling apart. I watch them load her into the back of the ambulance, and Marco ushers me forward.

"You can ride with her, sir."

I glance back at him before the doors shut, and he gives me one last encouraging nod. "I’ll meet you there.”