He raced through the dark streets, grateful that it was late enough for the traffic that usually clogged the roads of D.C. to have dissipated. Was he overreacting? Should he call 911? He wasnt sure. All he could think was that he had to get to Lexa. Dodging into oncoming traffic, he zipped around the one car creeping along the street, its driver probably looking for parking. Ahead, a light turned yellow and he floored the accelerator, whooshing through the intersection. Horns blared behind him.

He didnt care.

All he could think of was Lexa. Lexa lying somewhere. Lexa in pain. He had to get to her. He could not lose her. He didnt think his heart could take another loss.

He took the next corner fast enough to feel like only two wheels were on the ground, but hed made it there. Lexas building. He left his car double-parked on the street and ran into the building.

Lexa! he called.

No one answered. He knew her apartment was on the fourth floor. He ran for the stairs, pushing the heavy door open and froze.

He knew what drying blood looked like and there was a long smear of it along the bare concrete of the stairs. The smell of it clogged the back of his throat. He looked up and saw that it streaked the stairs. Something someone who had been bleeding heavily had been dragged along here. He looked to see where the smear led and saw an exit door.

He shoved through it.

The cold air gusted, bringing a fine spray of grit up from the alleyway. Morgan squinted his eyes against it. The blood smear was fainter here, harder to make out, but still visible. Letting the door drop behind him, he was plunged into darkness. He pulled out his phone and launched the flashlight app, the harsh light throwing the stain into stark relief.

He followed it through the alley, still calling Lexas name, but getting no answer. The trail he followed stopped abruptly. He turned in a circle, trying to figure out where to look next.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw the slender hand, so pale it nearly glowed, extending out from behind the Dumpster. He ran, skidding to his knees next to Lexas unconscious body.

The blood had pooled beneath her. He ripped open her jacket to find the source and recoiled. It was everywhere. Whoever had done this had been in a frenzy. He couldnt even begin to count the stab wounds and he wasnt sure what to treat first. There were too many wounds, too much blood, too much damage. This couldnt be happening. Who would have done something like this? It was unreal. His mind couldnt seem to process it and for a second it wasnt Lexa he hovered over, but Fiona. He couldnt seem to get a full breath into his lungs. Panic swamped him and his vision blurred.