Rebirth: Love me Again

Chapter 58: Blood Ties and Bullet Wounds

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A real family.

Of course, someone must have birthed me, right? Real parents. My real parents. But why did they abandon me? Why was I left to become an orphan? Why was I alone?

Didn't they want me?

The thought clawed at my chest, each question twisting the knife deeper into my heart. The idea that somewhere out there, I had real parents—a family—sent a wave of confusion and anger crashing over me.

If they existed, why had they left me to fend for myself? Why had they let me suffer through the loneliness, the pain, the feeling of being unwanted? Why had they left me alone against the world?

Was I never enough for them?

My hands trembled as these questions spiraled, an overwhelming tide of emotions I hadn't expected. The answers I thought I might never need suddenly burned within me, leaving a hollow ache.

The idea of a real family . . . of blood that wasn't tied to the Rosette name . . . a blood that tied only to me. It sent a strange surge of adrenaline through my veins.

I forced myself up, every muscle screaming in protest. I wasn't done yet. I

couldn't

be done yet.

I was given a second chance and I will not waste it.

Hope flickered in my heart, a new goal suddenly burned into my mind. If I got out of here alive . . . I would find them.

My real family

.

I didn't care if they didn't want me. I just wanted the truth.

Why had they abandoned me?

I needed to hear it from their own mouths—the real reason they cast me aside.

It wasn't about seeking their love or hoping for some miraculous reunion. I wasn't that naive. But the not knowing—the endless void of unanswered questions—was something I couldn't live with anymore.

I wanted to look them in the eye and demand to know why. Why had they left me to face the world alone? Why did they choose to forget I ever existed?

I didn't need their love. I needed their truth.

With that thought pushing me forward, I stumbled to my feet and launched myself at the nearest man. His gun was pointed directly at me—if the bullet hit, I'd be dead for sure.

My body braced for the impact, and the gunshot rang out.

I blinked, my mind sluggish, trying to understand what had happened.

Instead of collapsing again, I stared, wide-eyed, as

Cole

appeared in front of me, his face cold and stony.

W-what . . . ?

Was I hallucinating?

But then Cole gasped, and I realized this was real. He wasn't a figment of my imagination—he was here. Somehow, impossibly, he had found me.

Without a word, Cole pulled a knife from his jacket and hurled it at the gunman. The blade struck on his head, and the man crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

Before I could even process what was happening, chaos erupted. Gunfire filled the warehouse, echoing off the walls in a deadly symphony.

Men in black darted across the maintenance ladders suspended from the ceiling, their movements swift and calculated as they unleashed a hail of gunfire upon Sullivan's men below.

In the midst of the chaos, I caught sight of Zen, Cole's personal bodyguard, as he leaped into the fray. With a flawless somersault, he fired his weapon, taking out targets with an almost balletic grace.

It felt like a scene ripped straight from an action movie, the air crackling with tension as bullets whizzed past.

Cole grabbed me, dragging me behind cover as bullets rain down from all direction.

My mind spun, the reality of the situation crashing over me. I could see the blood on his arm, a deep crimson stain spreading across his sleeve.

"B-blood . . ." I managed to stammer, panic rising in my chest.

I had never flinched at the sight of blood—neither my own nor that of others—but in this moment, the thought of his blood made my breath hitch in my throat. It felt as though a heavy weight settled in the pit of my stomach, a visceral fear that twisted my insides.

"It's nothing," Cole said, his voice calm like everything that was happening was within his control.

He met my gaze, and for a moment, the cold, distant look in his eyes softened. He reached out, brushing his thumb gently across my lips, the tenderness of the gesture almost making me break down.

"You're hurt," he murmured, his voice quieter now, filled with a concern I had never expected to hear from him.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the darkness was closing in fast. The pain in my side was unbearable, and with every beat of my heart, I could feel my strength slipping away.

Right. I had been shot.

It was a minor detail I nearly forgot when Cole suddenly appeared, stealing my attention like a dramatic entrance in a high-budget action film.

The shock of seeing him here, combined with the chaos around me, had pushed the reality of my injuries to the back of my mind.

But now, as the adrenaline faded, a sharp pain shot through me, making me gasp. My heart raced, beating faster than it had when the bullet pierced my skin.

Seeing Cole here and the blood in his arm made my heart beat more. Blood oozed from my wound, warm and sticky, pooling against my skin as I struggled to keep my composure.

Each heartbeat felt like a countdown, the reality of my situation crashing down around me like a tidal wave, leaving me gasping for air in the storm of pain and confusion.

This man was going to be the death of me

. . . I thought bitterly as my vision went black.

"Eve! Eve!

Shit

, you're shot!" Cole's voice was distant now, the panic in his tone almost laughable.

He hadn't even noticed my wound until now?

I opened my mouth to say something, but there was nothing I could do as consciousness slipped away.